


A Series of Ridiculous Events

by jewboykahl



Category: South Park
Genre: Boyfriends, Drama, Fluff and Angst, Gay Male Character, High School, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, POV First Person, Pining, Referenced Smut, Slow Burn, aged up character(s), so much pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 26
Words: 80,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25631131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jewboykahl/pseuds/jewboykahl
Summary: As Craig maneuvers his way through Sophomore year, he begins to notice that life changes whether or not you want it to. With new relationships, the ending of old ones, and increased levels of stress and bullshit, his first year of high school shaped up to be almost as stupid as his feelings for his best friend, Tweek.
Relationships: (Minor), Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak, Stan Marsh/Kenny McCormick, Thomas (South Park: Le Petit Tourette)/Craig Tucker, Tweek Tweak/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 78
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi ao3 community! so this is an old story that I had published to ao3 (as jewboykahl) when i was like 15-16 and a giant SP stan. I've been in quarantine bc i got stupid COVID-19 and decided to update all these stories and post them again! i highly doubt anyone remembers these, but i hope that someone enjoys them again (:  
> ps im 20 now so i just want to clarify I wrote this when I actually WAS 15

A lot of people in my life have told me that high school is the turning point in your life where everything starts to get real. You find out who you are, what you want to accomplish, and how to get there. You realize who's a douchebag, and who's a real friend, and furthermore, you find out whether or not you are a douchebag or a decent person. Everything is supposed to change.

I took that warning with a grain of salt on my first day of sophomore year. I was confident that I knew who I was, who I was going to become, what I wanted to do, and who my real friends were. I was expecting just another bland, unexciting year in my hometown of South Park, Colorado. No drama, no change, just nice and boring. That’s how I liked it.

The very first day of my sophomore year was one of those rare warm days in our little mountain town. The distant sun was a glowing orb in the sky with no clouds impeding its rays from our line of sight. Several different kinds of birds sang their vaguely irritating songs as they fluttered from tree to tree, each tall pine covered with melting snow. My small congregation of friends awaited the yellow school bus to pick us up from the designated spot on the side of the road and transport us to the high school for the very first time.

Clyde was bouncing with excitement, a gleam of zeal in his grey-blue eyes. "Can you believe we're already almost seniors?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself, dude. We have two more years." Token snorted, hands buried in his pea-coat. Usually my rich, attractive, built, smart, and essentially perfect friend would hitch a ride from his mother to school, but she had begun a career in which she actually did things, so he stayed at Clyde's and was forced to use middle-class transportation. This was a temporary situation that would last until his parents purchased him a car. I'm definitely not jealous at all.

Clyde's smile refused to falter, "But last year we had three more years. It's just getting closer and closer. Now I can be on the high school football team!"

"If you make it," I added. It was mine and Token's unofficial job to keep Clyde grounded. He had been one of my best friend's since diapers, but he tended to get a bit presumptuous if you let him. We never did.

"I will," He assured me. "I'll been practicing all summer for this shit. I just wish someone else had a shot at being quarterback that isn't Stan fucking Marsh."

Token shrugged his shoulders, "The dude's quarterback every year because he's good at it. Be better than him, and you will be."

"It's not just that. It's because he's Mr. Perfect." Clyde rolled his eyes.

"Maybe he'll die or something." I suggested.

Clyde chuckled, "Thanks for that hope booster."

"Hey, you guys." A familiar voice greeted as it approached us. I turned my head to see Tweek Tweak.

Tweek was one of those people that would have met the highest standards of media perception attractiveness if he actually took care of himself, in ways of sleeping and brushing his hair. If one took the time to sit and study his features like I had, they would see that he had a breathtaking natural beauty. His thick, light blond nest of hair stuck up in all different places as if it had never been brushed. His deep, forest green eyes were constantly accompanied by dark circles that were a result of sleep deprivation. His tantalizing heart-shaped lips were chapped and scarred from his excessive biting and picking at the sensitive skin, a nervous habit of his. His nose was tiny and pointy, and he was wearing a purple bandage across the bridge of it to protect a healing gash that happened after Clyde inadvertently opened a car door on his face. He was a few inches shorter than me, and really thin except for a beer gut that was created by his terrible diet. Tweek was a shaking ball of paranoia, littered with imperfections, and constantly emitting the intense smell of coffee. He was my favorite person in the world.

I let myself grant him a small grin. "Mornin'."

He was wearing only an over-sized sweater and light blue jeans. His fingerless glove clad hands wrapped around a disposable coffee cup. His eyes trained on the ground, saying nothing else. I frowned. Normally he would burst out a full conspiracy theory, especially on such a monumental day, and especially around me. I could instantly detect that something was amiss.

While enduring Clyde's pugnacious soliloquy about how terrible Stan Marsh was, the bus pulled up with a grunt and opened its doors for us to enter. To me it felt like ascending into a prison van. School was essentially jail; it’s boring, everyone has formed a clique or gang, and you have no choice but to go (or your parents go to jail). Even then food is pretty similar.

I have never been an academic person, either. My hobbies included watching cartoons, taking pictures, and making fun of people. I detested every aspect of public schooling and have asked on several occasions for my parents to stop torturing me and let me be homeschooled.

As soon as we slotted into our respective seats on the booth, I turned to Tweek and furrowed my eyebrows. My voice went lower to make the inquiry private, “Hey, you alright? You seem off.”

“What?” Tweek wondered as if snapping out of a trance. His emerald eyes were saucers when they returned my attention. “Oh, uh, yeah. I’m good. I’m fine.”

 _Weird,_ I thought. There’s always something wrong with him. He always had a complaint. Not in a bad way, but in a Tweek way. I frowned, “Dude, I’m not stupid. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I swear. Don’t worry about me!” The blond assured me with the fakest smile I have ever seen.

I hated when he would tell me that. All I ever did was worry about him.

During orientation I had already seen and explored the high school. I was the oldest in my family of two siblings, so it was the premiere time for any part of us to set foot in the prison-esque building. I know I compared it to jail before, but the way it was structured and at the top of a hill actually looked like one. It was extremely unsettling—even more so now that I actually have to stay there for seven hours and navigate classes. It’s going to be an absolute nightmare.

It hit me like a ton of bricks when the yellow vehicle came to an abrupt stop before the daunting school. This was it; I was officially a high school student. It was such a strange notion. I had been looking up to high schoolers my entire life as these unattainable, older, cooler people that were on some complete distant plane of existence, and now I am one.

“This is it, dudes,” Clyde announced, sucking in a long breath through his nostrils with a stupid grin splayed across his face. “This is the promise land.”

“I was hoping for something sunnier as my promise land.” Token deadpanned as we stood to file out of the bus.

A glance behind me allowed me to find our ‘rival’ gang of friends, unofficially known as “Stan’s gang”. The members of this infuriating group of people consisted of the already mentioned sports extraordinaire and ever-popular Stan Marsh, Jewish genius boy Kyle Broflovski who was perpetually angry about something, poor boy yet undeniably attractive Kenny McCormick that everyone has had a crush on at some point in their life regardless of gender, and of course, the fat, racist tub of lard that calls itself Eric Cartman. I hate each member of this group with a passion that started in the fourth grade when they decided to take my birthday money and invest in a Peruvian flute band that turned out to be illegal and got us detained and transported to Peru. It’s a very long, very annoying story, but the moral of it is that those guys suck.

Clyde’s ecstatic expression turned back to Tweek and I, “Aren’t you guys even a little excited?! We’re the big dogs now!”

I cocked an eyebrow, “Are you forgetting about juniors and seniors, or are you just delusional?”

“Both.” Token snorted.

Clyde was the first to hop down from the bus, his cheesy smile remaining despite our digs at him. I sometimes wish I shared his enthusiasm for social activities. I just can’t seem to find the appeal in putting yourself out there and trying new things. It’s unnecessary stress. I liked everything nice, boring, and repetitive. Clyde quite liked the attention of others, but, only positive attention, of course.

I peered back at Tweek after exiting the bus, and characteristically, he was shaking and gnawing on his bottom lip. Tweek has extreme anxiety, and his ADD only makes it worse on him. A large portion of why we gravitate towards one another the most is that while I didn’t enjoy social situations, he _feared_ them. When we kept to ourselves, we weren’t alone, and it was really comforting. I also possessed an inexplicable knack for calming him down. Mrs. Tweak had expressed her jealousy of my abilities on several occasions.

Tweek perked his head up at me, his tone panicked, “Do you think upperclassmen will have it out for us still?”

“In South Park?” I sighed, gazing back to the level of Hell we were heading towards. “Definitely.”

_

After finding our alphabetically assigned lockers, the guys and I met up and headed to homeroom. Our graduating class had been the same since kindergarten and substantially small in size. Excluding differing electives, we had all had the same core classes up until that point, meaning I saw the same faces in every single class for ten years straight, and not to mention lunch in our tiny cafeteria. The lack of variety in the people department was nauseating. In the high school, however, there were quite a lot more teachers, and classes that would allow us to mingle with upperclassmen.

Token groaned, “I got a fucking bottom locker. This is the fourth year in a _row_.”

“So did I,” I scowled. “and my body decided to grow four inches this summer.”

“Are you done yet, dude?” Clyde wondered with a chuckle. “I think six-four is tall enough.”

“You don’t say.” I groaned in response.

I glanced to my side simply to confirm that the silent Tweek was still shadowing us. He was continuing this odd bought of silence, quietly shuddering and chewing on his thumbnail. My concern was growing with each passing second. I tried to convince myself that he was simply exceedingly anxious for the first day of high school, but it was difficult to justify.

As soon as we entered our homeroom we were smacked in the face with an unwarranted blast from the past. Sitting in the front of our class was a teacher that I thought I was done with after the second year of enduring his inability to teach us anything at all, Mr. Garrison. His bald-spot had grown more intense over the years, but he had thankfully ditched those terrible olive dress-pants. His rectangular glasses sat on the tip of his nose as he flipped through a magazine at his desk.

“Oh, you have _got_ to be fucking with me.” Clyde huffed as we collectively stopped in our tracks.

Token scoffed, “Shouldn’t he be in jail or something?”

“ _He_ has ears, boys.” Mr. Garrison called from his desk without even looking up. It was terrifying how he could still do that. “It’s nice to see you all again, too.”

“I never said that.” I muttered to myself as we ambled to the desks to secure four spots beside one another. We were relatively early to class, so the only other people occupying the classroom was Butters Stotch, an overly nice kid that hasn’t grown in any way since the third grade, and a couple girls that I still didn’t know the name of.

Soon to enter was Bebe Stevens and Wendy Testaburger. They had been ‘besties’ for as long as we all had, and they never left one another’s side. The only differences between them were their physical appearance, Wendy was betrothed to Stan Marsh, and that Clyde had been madly in love with Bebe for as long as I can remember. It had gotten to a pretty creepy and desperate point.

“You guys—!” Clyde loud-whispered, slapping me on the arm repeatedly. “There’s Bebe.”

I winced and jerked my arm away from his reach. “Yeah, we have eyes, dumbass.”

“God, she looks amazing.” Clyde hummed dreamily.

Token and I exchanged annoyed glances as our friend drifted off into his Bebe-induced fantasy world. By most standards, I guess Bebe is a pretty girl, and not completely conventionally perfect. She was extremely curvy without a flat stomach to go along with it and her long blonde hair hung in untamable curls all the way to the small of her back. If I was attracted to women, I guess she’d be one of them. But, I’d never be as insane over anyone as Clyde is. My obsessions are contained.

“Ah, not this asshole again!” A very distinct speech impediment exclaimed on entering the classroom. I peered over at the door to see Cartman getting slapped in the chest by Kyle. He clutched the spot of contact and glared daggers up at his assailant, “Ow, what the fuck, Jew!?”

“Don’t be a dick!” Kyle scolded.

“Oh, jeez.” Garrison sighed to himself as the four friends claimed their desks. The old man may be familiar with my group of friends, but he was very personal with Stan’s gang. They got in so many unimaginable and sometimes life-or-death situations that I’m sure nobody would believe if they hadn’t seen it for themselves. I don’t understand how they managed to stay as such a cohesive group after the indubitable trauma they’ve endured.

Another big reason I can’t stand them is because for a couple weeks, they recruited Tweek to be in their group. It wasn’t long before the paranoid blond came crying back into a quiet and calming friendship with me, but for that time I was extremely bored and angry. I thought I didn’t have a best friend anymore.

“Alright students, take your seats.” Garrison announced over the loud bell. He clapped his hands together to obtain our attention before continuing. “The high school was short-staffed this year with Mr. Jones’s sex scandal, so I’ll be your homeroom and world history teacher this year. And before you all start groaning, know that I do not want to be here anymore than you do. I would much rather be teaching the third grade, where they don’t all smell like wet cheese.”

Prior to a short introduction, Garrison allowed us to spend the remainder of the period chatting amongst ourselves. For the most part, we clung to the social barriers of our respective groups that have been fused together over the years. While I had known all these people my whole life, I didn’t truly know anyone well besides Clyde, Tweek, and Token. Sure, I’ve interacted with almost everyone in the class, but there was no need for any of the groups to mix on a personal level. That’s the way it was, and the way it would stay. Or, so I thought.

_

The rest of the first day went by far too slowly. Each time the bell rang my heart would throb unpleasantly with the realization that I would have to maneuver through a hoard of pubescent assholes again. All of my classes zig-zagged across the building; not that South Park High School was all that big, but it irritated me immensely after an entire summer of sitting on my ass and gaining ten pounds.

“Craig, do you want your usual?” Tweek inquired, trembling hand firmly grasping a half-full pot of coffee. Almost every day after school for as long as we were allowed to wander town on our own, we would always congregate at Tweek’s family business, Tweek Bro’s Coffee. The coffee tasted like shit for the most part, but it was just kind of our thing. It was our territory, so to speak. I had to smile at how adorable he looks while working, apron on and hair pulled back into berets. I nodded at him, sending him off to do his barista duty. 

“What extracurricular are you guys gonna sign up for tomorrow?” Token posed between careful sips at his latte.

“Football, obviously,” Clyde announced boastfully. “Try-outs are Saturday.”

“Wow, really? You hadn’t mentioned.” I retorted sardonically.

Token chuckled and glanced over the counter at the bustling blond, “What about you, Tweekers?”

“What?” Tweek asked, his voice coming with a vague edge. It was very easy to catch him off guard. “Oh, uh… I don’t know….”

“Hey, you okay, man? You’ve been kinda weird all day.” Clyde pressed with a curious gaze.

Tweek spun on his heels in our direction, flushed face pulling into an obviously forced smile. “Yeah, I’m uh, I’m totally fine. Whipped cream, Craig?”

“Sure.” I answered with narrowed eyes.

“You’re a terrible liar.” Token pointed out the obvious.

Tweek sighed as he made a delicate spiral with the Ready-Whip before gingerly placing the steaming cup before me. He dusted his hands on his apron as he replied, “I-I don’t know, you guys, I guess I’m just stressed about this new school and what not. I got lost four times!”

Although Token and Clyde were easily convinced that this was the truthful reasoning behind Tweek’s odd behavior, I wasn’t buying it. I knew this boy like that back of my hand and if he was truly nervous about school, he would be fluttering around like someone who had lost their ever-loving shit. There was definitely something he was keeping from us—from _me_. I had a very bad feeling about it.


	2. Chapter 2

The amount of actual clubs and activities that we had at South Park High genuinely surprised me. The gymnasium was littered with tables set up to display information about various extracurricular opportunities with at least one representative. I was expecting perhaps two or three flyers about chess club and the debate team, but even I had to admit it was kind of cool. It almost felt like a _normal_ high school.

“Dude, what the hell is table tennis?” Token questioned with an amused smirk.

“More importantly, why is there a club dedicated to it?” I added.

Tweek was at my other side, shifting his weight nervously between his legs. I placed a comforting hand on the small of his back, “You okay?”

He nodded, his bright, green stare listlessly sampling the room. “No anxiety attack coming on, if that’s what you mean.”

I shrugged and reluctantly moved my hand from its position on his back. “Sort of,”

As we slowly meandered through the rows of annoyingly perky kids with clipboards offering to give me an awesome high school experience, we came across something that was actually my speed, photography club. Since our school was too poor to have an actual photography class, a few students with Polaroids decided to create a club for it.

“You should sign up, Craig,” Token told me. “I know mingling isn’t your thing, but this is calling your name, man.”

I let out a sigh, “You’ve got a point.”

As I leaned down to scribble my name on the sign-up sheet, recognizing only two fellow sophomores, I heard a fourth party approaching our group. At first I assumed it was Clyde catching up with us, until I recalled that he was with the potential football team. I set the pen down and turned around, but as soon as I did, I wished I hadn’t.

“Hey, Craig.” Calum greeted with a snide smile.

My heart crawled up my throat. Calum Mitchell is, for a lack of better words, the worst fucking person on the face of the goddamn planet. He’s Tweek’s ex-boyfriend that spent a year playing and torturing him until he finally took my advice and ended things. As soon as he found out Tweek had a crush on him, he worked it from every angle imaginable and got anything he wanted from him. It sucked the life out of the poor guy, and if he was back to restart the process, I was not about to let it happen.

“Hey, fucktard. I hope you had a shitty summer.” I shot back, mainly on reflex. The only reason I slightly regretted my blunt remark was the elbow to my ribs that I earned from Tweek.

I narrowed my eyes down at my blonde friend, who was wearing his doe-eyed expression. “Dude, be nice. We worked things out.”

“There was nothing to work out, he treated you like garbage—“

“I know,” Calum interrupted me, pulling his stupid mouth into a tight line. “I was a dick, and I deserve you to be pissed at me. I realized what I did and I just wanted things to be okay between Tweek and I. And I think they are, aren’t they?”

My blood boiled to see him so much as _address_ Tweek. Maybe he wouldn’t dare to come near him if he had been the one to coddle him at two in the morning as he gross sobbed about how much it hurt to even think about Calum. Yet, there Tweek was, smiling as if those moments had never occurred. He was getting lured right back in to Calum’s cesspool of bullshit and drama, two things that Tweek did not need nor deserve.

“They are. So, be cool, Craig.” Tweek told me, his look accusing as if _I_ was in the wrong for not wanting anything to do with this mountainous asshole.

I glanced over my shoulder to Token for back-up, but he was more perplexed than irritated. It had been three months since Tweek had spoken to, or of, Calum, and all of a sudden he’s right back in our lives. If I cared a tiny bit less about getting suspended, I would have made sure he couldn’t see Tweek for at least a day.

The rest of the Extracurricular Fair was spent with me forced to watch Tweek and Calum rendezvous as if they were the best of friends. A seed of jealousy was planted inside of me, growing inch my inch with every gesture and giggle and smile they shared. I knew I had no chance whatsoever with Tweek to begin with, but that it sure as hell didn’t make me feel better to see him blatantly flirting with someone I knew he used to have a lot of feelings for. I knew there was something he was hiding.

“Okay, what the hell was that all about?” Token was the first to ask, his tone hushed as Calum took off in the other direction to catch up with his own group of friends. “Isn’t that the guy who just broke your heart like a few months ago?”

“Well, uh, yeah… But he’s way different now, you guys! He came to me really apologetic about everything and said that he really wants to make it up to me! He’s been really nice.” Tweek elaborated, desperately trying to make us understand.

I crossed my arms over my chest. I remember so many words flowing to the surface and dying to be poured out my mouth, but I bit my tongue like I always did. Instead I just said, “If he hurt you once, he’ll hurt you again. Please be careful.”

Tweek rolls his eyes, sighing softly, “You act like I’m some—some _infant_.”

Token shook his head, “Craig’s not doing anything, bud. He’s just looking out for you. We all are.”

“Well, maybe I don’t need looked out for.” Tweek huffed. My heart twitched unpleasantly at his words. Calum had already gotten to him.

I scoffed dramatically and turned around, pacing away. I wished I could have comprehended Tweek’s thought process, and what led him to the belief that interacting with Calum again on any level was a decent idea. He was a wicked good manipulator. Whether or not Tweek was even aware, all he had to do was flash a smile in his direction, and it was as if he was in a trance. It was infuriating, and it hurt.

When I arrived home instead of the normal routine of heading to Tweek Bro’s, my mom was caught off guard. She watched me slide off my shoulder-bag and shoes simultaneously with a confused expression. “What are you doing home, baby?”

My mother was my second favorite person in the world, behind Tweek. Not only was she beautiful and kind, she kicked ass. She always called everyone out for their bullshit no matter who they were or where she was, especially me. She was the most understanding and caring person I’ve ever met.

I shrugged and slumped into a kitchen chair. “I just wanted to be here.”

“What happened?” Mom inquired, bustling over to me and removing the knit hat from my head. I groaned at the exposure of my wayward black hair, but allowed her to trace her painted fingers through it anyway.

“Tweek and Calum are talking again. And I’m pretty sure it’s a romantic kind of talking.” I revealed, my glumness bringing out the monotone in my voice.

“Oh, Craig,” Mom sighed. “What the hell is wrong with that boy? You’d think that someone as anxious as Tweek would be a bit more protective of himself.”

“Right?” I agreed with a scoff.

When she decided she was done attempting to tame my hair, she sat back and looked at me with her kind face. Thankfully, I got my looks from her. My dad isn’t ugly or anything, but he’s ginger and overly rugged. I got Mom’s little nose, lips, tan skin, and hazel eyes. My jet black hair came from my Peruvian heritage, which mom shared, though she dyed her hair blonde. Mom frowned, “I’m sorry, baby. But, don’t worry about being replaced or losing him. No matter what, Tweek loves you. You boys are best friends.”

“Hooray,” I huffed sarcastically. One more great thing about Mom is I can tell her about my feelings for Tweek without worrying about her spilling the information to anyone.

Mom stood and made her way back behind the counter. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but maybe you would have different results with Tweek if you were just honest about how you feel. I see no harm in telling him you have a crush on him.”

“I see a lot of harm. Like, totally freaking him out and sending him into a spiral of anxiety and paranoia because he doesn’t know what to do with himself.”

Mom raised an eyebrow at me from across the room, “It sounds like you’re the one spiraling into anxiety and paranoia.”

I shrugged, casting my gaze to the floor. “Maybe,”

“Well, if you aren’t willing to go for anything romantic with Tweek, all you can do is be there for him.”

There for him is all I’ve ever been. Sometimes, it just doesn’t feel like he even notices. I had been practically in love with Tweek for about nine years of my life. Every time I was with him I felt so happy and complete. Nobody else in the world had ever given me that feeling of warmth and understanding and, just, goodness before. True, it stung like a fresh wound that he didn’t reciprocate my feelings, but it really didn’t matter to me. I just felt lucky to love him.

I did get bitter about it from time to time, and the era of Calum was definitely one of those times. It didn’t seem fair that someone that crushed Tweek and purposefully held him down got another chance with him when I hadn’t even received one. Calum didn’t love Tweek, or even care for Tweek, which is all I ever did. 


	3. Chapter 3

The end of the first week of school meant the start of our respective extracurricular clubs and activities. Our school required us to be involved in a least one, for some reason, but I wasn’t complaining about photography club. Token had settled on drama club with Nichole, and Tweek decided to pretend to participate in chess club. I would have coaxed him into attending photography club with me, we were beginning to drift just as we had the first time Calum wormed his way into our lives.

At first, I was too proud and offended to make sure mine and Tweek’s friendship was secure. He promised me that he wasn’t dating Calum and he wasn’t going to fall back into the situation, but just being near him and offering him the second chance he didn’t deserve got under my skin. They exchanged words in the hallways, at lunch, and sometimes even at Tweek Bro’s. It was agonizing.

I had killed a half-hour by doing homework in the library as I waited for the club to begin. In the past, I had put little to no effort in completing homework assignments. They were either relatively simple or the teacher only checked for participation points. But, high school seemed to possess a whole diverse level of exertion. Math was actually stumping me. It was yet another reason I despised growing up and becoming a sophomore. Next, gym class is going to be a struggle.

Clutching the strap of my book-bag, I approached the classroom labeled with a colorful sign reading ‘Photography Club _’._ I sucked in a deep breath and prayed I knew at least one person behind the doors before I turned the knob and stepped in. Fortunately, a few familiar faces were revealed. Unfortunately, one of them was Eric Cartman. I had forgotten he had a thing for photography.

“Hey! What’s your name?” A cheerful senior girl questioned as she stood in the front of the room with a clipboard. She looked vaguely familiar (everyone in South Park did) but I didn’t know her name.

“Uh, Craig Tucker.” I muttered.

The girl scanned her eyes down her clipboard, her face lighting up when she found my handwriting inscribed on the sign-up sheet. “Awesome! Welcome to photography club!”

I offered her a small grin before trudging to an empty seat. As I set my back on the desk before me, some kid beside me caught me off guard by randomly shouting, “Ah, _shit_!”

A glance to my left found a boy with sandy blonde hair clutching a hand over his mouth. His deep brown eyes stared back at me, cheeks flushed. I was slightly offended at first, but then I recalled who this kid was—Thomas.

He nodded at me, hand muffling his words, “What’sup?”

I chuckled and claimed the seat at the table beside him. Back in fourth grade, I had a really big crush on him when Cartman decided to pretend to have his same condition, Tourette's Syndrome, in order to say whatever he felt like whenever he felt like. I thought it was so cool that he couldn’t control his swear words from slipping out at random intervals. To this day, if I could get away with cussing right to teachers, I would be _so_ happy.

Just as I had gotten settled, Cartman spun around in his chair to face me. He scooted the seat forward and laid his arms on the sleek, black science table. He was wearing his _I’m-up-to-something-stupid_ expression that I had unfortunately grown to recognize over the years. “Hey, Craig?”

“What do you want?” I returned with no inflection. A great way to get him to leave you alone is by showing no interest in him.

As of right then, he didn’t quite receive the memo that I didn’t want to talk to him. Cartman went on in a low voice, “How’s high school treating you?”

I narrowed my brow, “Why do you care?”

“I’m just making conversation with my fellow club member.” Cartman assured with a faux tone of innocence.

I huffed, “It’s treating me probably about the same it’s treating you.”

“So, you’re stressed out?”

“Sure.” I shot back, although, his motives were becoming increasingly suspicious.

“Well, Craig,” Cartman began, reaching into his back pocket with a bit of strain. Over time, he grew a bit less maniacal and horrible, but he remained overweight. I don’t think he would ever have the perseverance to give up Cheesy Poofs. “If you have eighteen dollars, I can help you out.”

He removed a plastic baggie from his jeans and set it on the table before me, hand cupped over it. I rolled my eyes, immediately aware of what he was trying to sell me. “You seriously think I want to buy drugs from you?”

“C’mon, Craig! Help me out! I have to get a drug test for my job interview and there’s no way I’m throwing this away when I can make money off of it. It’s not going to kill you! It’ll just make you feel great for a while. C’mon, buy it. I’m peer pressuring you. Do it.”

“Cram it up your ass, tubby.” I grumbled, pushing his hand away and turning to retrieve a notebook from my book-bag.

“Ugh, fine, you’re a fucking pussy, dude. Will Clyde take it? Or Tweek?”

I glared daggers at him. “Why don’t you just give it to your mom?”

“Oh, ha-ha,” Cartman hissed sardonically. He snatched the baggie in his beefy hand. “And I was even going to offer you a discount.”

After I stuck up my middle finger, he finally faced forward and left me to my scribbles of song lyrics in the margins of my notebook. I added to them as the president of our club, Jamie Tuner, rattled off a very animated introduction to photography club. I guess I probably should have paid a bit more attention to what I was going to be spending my time doing, but I generally stop listening to people talk after about five minutes. All I’m sure of is that we’ll have field trips, competitions, and the opportunity to participate in Arts Fair.

After the club was over, I headed over to Clyde’s house. We all agreed to ‘talk him up’ for football tryouts the next day, which was Clyde for ‘I’m nervous as fuck, be there for me’. I was vaguely anxious myself, considering the dwindling amount of communication I had with Tweek. In all actuality, it hadn’t been that long, but Tweek and I were constantly either with each other, texting, or on the phone. When you don’t spend as much time with someone you have that kind of relationship with it’s very easy to miss them.

On approaching the Donavan’s, I was immediately greeted by my three friends sharing the porch swing. Clyde was sprawled out across Tweek and Token’s laps and they were all cracking up at a video on his iPhone. When Clyde flicked his eyes up to find me standing there he shot up and fitted himself on Token’s thighs, “Craig, come here! You gotta see this!”

Token only groaned in protest, awkwardly resting his arms around Clyde’s waist. We used to complain about the dude’s complete disregard for personal space, but at this point in our lives, it was a familiar annoyance.

The only available space then was Tweek’s lap, and considering that he was close to half my size, I gestured for him to stand up, “Get up,”

I chose to ignore our weird terms for the time being and it seemed to play in my favor. Tweek’s beautiful smile curved his lips as he stood for me to take his spot. He then climbed on my lap and we all leaned into Clyde’s iPhone’s screen to view a video of two brothers convincing their sister that a zombie apocalypse broke out after she got her wisdom teeth removed. That moment was the happiest I had felt all week; with Tweek pressed up against me, laughing with me like nothing was wrong and nothing changed. It was so relieving that I couldn’t bite back my grin.

After about fifteen more hilarious videos, Clyde’s father, Roger, stepped up on the porch with an armful of groceries. Clyde swiftly paused the video before the loud obscenities got him in trouble and he granted his dad a mockingly sweet smile. “Hi, daddy.”

Roger’s eyebrows narrowed as he reached in the pocket of his dress pants for his keychain. “Are all of you boys gay now?”

Token, Tweek, and I slapped our hands over our mouths to muffle the laughter as Clyde became defensive. Huffing, he propelled himself off of Token’s lap, “No! We were just watching videos! God, Dad!”

Chuckling, Roger opened the door to their home, “Relax, son. I think everybody in the world knows you like girls. Especially ones named Bebe.”

With that, the man entered the house, leaving Clyde blushing. As soon as he was out of ear shot, Token exclaimed, “Damn, roasted!”

“Shut up, asshole! C’mon, let’s go play C.O.D.,” Clyde mumbled, pulling the screen door open lazily.

I sent him a smirk, “What, you need to do some straight white-boy activity to wash away the gay thoughts?”

“I don’t _have_ gay thoughts, Craig.” He fired back oversensitively.

Tweek added, “You know, if you were gay, Clyde, nobody would care. No one’s here to judge.”

“I’m straight!” The flustered brunette proclaimed angrily as we laughed. The four of us traveled down the stairs to Clyde’s basement, where we spent a majority of our time. There was a PS4, a couch, and a mini-fridge. We’ve camped out down there for entire summers before.

After a couple minutes of mindlessly roaming a pixelated map in search of enemy soldiers to exterminate, I began a dialogue, “Guys, fuck high school. It’s stupid.”

“Ugh, I agree!” Tweek exclaimed. “I know the schools not that much bigger than the elementary, but I can’t remember where my classes are! And the other grades don’t really notice when they’re ramming you into lockers while trying to get past. _Gah_ , it’s so stressful!”

For some reason, I felt relaxed to see Tweek _un_ -relaxed again. It was as if some kind of balance was restored to the universe. Of course I hate his unmanageable anxiety for him and wish there was something beyond therapy or drugs that could help him, but it was him.

“I actually like it a lot.” Clyde said, his tongue peeking out the corner of his lips as he concentrated on the video game displayed on his television. “I feel awesome.”

“You’re not.” Token announced with a boastful chuckle as he pivoted around a corner and shot Clyde’s avatar.

“Hey!” Clyde growled, throwing a fist at Token’s shoulder as he laughed.

As the two got into it physically and on the video game, my heart seemed to notice that Tweek was slowly coming closer and closer to me. His expression told me that it wasn’t intentional, but I knew that he always got a bit freaked out when we all played against one another. He didn’t like the ‘uncertainty’. I was happy to comfort him.

I leaned in a bit closer to whisper in his ear, “Team up and get Token?”

Tweek peered back at me through the blonde bangs that dipped across his eyes. A playfully conniving grin played across his lips as he nodded for confirmation. The first phase in our mission was to find one another, and then stalk Token while he was distracted by Clyde’s inability to lose with grace. There was no need to verbally discuss the plan, Tweek and I always did this. It _always_ worked, as well, since Token and Clyde usually somehow ended up yelling and shoving each other.

“Quit, cry baby!” Token complained as Clyde attempted to rip the controller from his grasp. “You’re about to fucking catch these hands.”

“Throw them, then!” Clyde countered, settling on jamming his elbow into Token’s bicep and returning his eyes and thumbs to the video game. But, by then it was too late.

“Now!” Tweek announced excitedly. As if it was some big dramatic scene from a movie, Tweek and I turned the corner with our fake army soldiers and simultaneously pulled the trigger on Token’s character.

Token let out a disgruntled moan, letting the controller fall into his lap when he tossed his hands up. “What?! Clyde, goddamn it, look what you do!”

“Me?!” Clyde shouted for confirmation between laughs. “You’re the dumbass that got distracted! You know the married couple over there always teams up on us!”

Giggle adorably, Tweek turned to me and waggled his eyebrows. “My husband and I regret nothing.”

I grinned and bumped my knuckles against his. “Suck our collective dick, Token.”

“I hate you guys.” Token growled and reverted into focus mode when he respawned.

After a vigorous battle in which I betrayed Tweek in the end, we decided that pizza sounded really good for dinner. It’s times like these where our burning hatred for South Park astronomically increased. Apparently we were too remote for even a Pizza Hut and were forced to leave ours homes to pick it up. It was truly un-American.

After losing the four-man Rock-Paper-Scissors tournament, it was me that had to travel across town for dinner. It wasn’t as if across town was terribly far—they called it a small town for a reason—but I was a lazy asshole. One thing did make it more bearable: “I’ll come with you, Craig,” Tweek offered.

My heart swelled, but my face maintained it’s generally disinterested expression. The pair of us reluctantly stood from the sofa and slid into our shoes. On the way out, we had a brief argument over who would ask Roger if he wanted anything from Shakey’s, and after I lost again he politely declined our offer.

“Hey, Craig, can I ask you something?” Tweek broke the moment of silence during the walk. It was getting dark as the sun started to hide behind the mountain peaks circling the town.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded, “Yeah, what’s up?”

Tweek sighed, picking at his bottom lip nervously. I leaned over and slapped his hand away before he could peel off the sensitive skin and create even more barely healing cuts. He apologized sheepishly before returning to the matter at hand, “Are you mad at me for talking to Calum again?”

 _Great_ , I thought, _the last possible thing I want to talk about._ Nonetheless, I tactually replied, “I’m not mad at you. I just think it’s a really bad idea.”

Tweek sighed, as if frustrated that I thought that. “But he’s really changed, Craig. He apologies to me like a hundred times a day! I almost feel bad for how bad he feels!”

I tried not to roll my eyes. I really did. But, it was just too hard. “That’s the kind of shit he’s always done. He makes you think he’s changed by apologizing and promising he’ll never do it again, and then he turns it and makes you feel like it’s your fault. He hasn’t changed at all.”

“You’re just being hard on him. Besides, we’re not even dating.” Tweek defended with a sigh.

The quiet implemented itself for the rest of the way to Shakey’s Pizza. Just before we entered, I peered over at Tweek. He was staring back at me, his eyes slightly widened. A few stray, blond bangs were dipping unevenly across his forehead. I grinned a little and gingerly rose a hand to push them back into position. It would have been so easy to tell him how fucking perfect he was. But instead, I said, “I just don’t want to see you hurt again, Tweekers. It kills me.”

Tweek returned my smile, “It means a lot to me. I just really don’t want you to be upset at me. You’re my best friend in the world. I don’t want that to change.”

“It won’t,” I promised him, even though I really wished it could change. “You’re always going be stuck with me.”

“Ugh.” He groaned, jokingly rolling his eyes. I narrowed my eyes and gave him a playful shove. Tweek laughed as he leaned in to wrap his arms tightly around my shoulders. “Hey, I’m kidding!”

I smirked, “Yeah, yeah. Now let’s get some pizza before Clyde starts blowing my phone up.”

As we entered the restaurant, the smell of cheese and dough wafted into our nostrils, and thoughts of Tweek flooded my mind.


	4. Chapter 4

“It just snapped, man.” A very forlorn Stan Marsh explained to Clyde, Token, Tweek and I how he managed to break his arm. Of course, we already knew, because Clyde had called us all over to scream about how the star athlete of South Park had finally fallen and that a new one must rise from the ashes. But, for the sake of popularity, he forced us all to pretend that we cared about Marsh’s well-being.

“Man, that sucks ass.” Clyde lied, although I’ll give him props for being pretty convincing. I wasn’t about to try, it was enough that he had managed to get me to spend lunch sitting across from Stan’s gang. Kyle had smiled at me, Stan greeted me, and Kenny winked at me. It was so disturbing.

Stan huffed miserably, wincing as he adjusted his arm in the sling. “Yeah. I can’t even write now, ‘cause I’m right-handed.”

“That’s my new job.” Kyle announced distastefully.

Cartman spoke up from behind a huge bite of ham sandwich, “You should’ve seen his ass at the hospital, man. He was sobbing like a bitch, it was fucking hysterical.”

Predictably, Kyle scrunched his nose up at the fat asshole beside him and jumped to Stan’s defense, “Because he had just snapped his arm, you dick! And don’t pretend like you wouldn’t be crying to your mommy the entire time. You have zero threshold for pain.” 

“Shut up, Kyle!” Cartman shot back defensively.

I couldn’t remember a single time that I’ve been around Cartman and Kyle that they didn’t get into some kind of altercation, physical or verbal. They’ve been at each other throats since they could speak, which had obviously become super irritating. Cartman does anything and everything he can to piss Kyle off on a daily basis, and Kyle does absolutely nothing to ignore it. They have the weirdest love-hate relationship ever. We all collectively decided to start accusing them of wanting to sleep with each other every time they got in to it, which clearly didn’t deter them too much.

“Can you guys chill?” I asked when they began shoving each other harshly and shaking the table. “You’re so married.”

Stan snorted when Kyle and Cartman dropped their jaws at my accusation. The redhead snapped his head towards his friend and growled, “Shut the fuck up before I break your other arm!”

I chuckled, nonchalantly peering back down at my phone, “You aren’t denying it.”

“I’m denying it! Fuck you, Craig!” Cartman exclaimed. He let out a long huff and threw his empty pop can at my face.

“Or, fuck Kyle, whatever you prefer.” Kenny added with a shrug.

“I hate you all.” Kyle groaned, rolling his eyes and scooting away from Cartman.

“Anyways,” Clyde spoke up after laughing at our peer’s expense. “Since you can’t play quarterback, Stan, who’s going to?”

The crippled jock gave a short shrug as he handed Kenny his water bottle to twist open for him, “I guess whoever did the best in tryouts. Coach said he’s going to announce the starters and backups at next week’s practice. Since there’s barely enough players, though, everyone at least made it on the team.”

Clyde nodded, and I could tell he was trying so hard to bite back that shit-eating grin. He was enjoying a kid breaking his arm way too much to be sane. “Do you have any idea who it’ll be?”

Stan shook his head, miserably sipping at his drink with his non-dominate hand. If didn’t hate the guy, I’d probably feel a little bad for it. Whether or not Clyde was attempting to be nice about his interest in being quarterback, he was sort of shoving it in Stan’s face.

“Hey, uh, I gotta go,” Tweek announced abruptly from my side. I flicked my eyes over to watch him push himself from his position next to me and grasp his lunch trey in his trembling hands.

I cocked an eyebrow, “Where?” 

“Just—To the bathroom! Yeah, I really gotta pee. I’ll see you in seventh period.” My friend nervously assured me, rushing off to dump his trey in the trash can and head down the hallway. My heart dropped to the base of my stomach when I caught a glimpse of why he had abandoned lunchtime. Calum, too, was ducking out of the cafeteria and heading in the same direction as Tweek.

Inadvertently, I groaned aloud and slammed my iPhone against the table before me. I was fully aware that Tweek was being ‘friends’ with this asshole again, but it didn’t make it any less infuriating when they attempted to be duplicitous about meeting up throughout the day. That had been the second time I was rendered Tweek-less due to Calum’s beckoning, and it set my teeth on edge.

“Dude, Craig, you okay?” Token pulled me from my seething thoughts.

I met his brown gaze, and then took a quick glance at the group of people surrounding me. I realized that my discontent must have been a lot more obvious than I wanted it to be. I cleared my throat and nodded shortly, lifting my phone and returning to scrolling listlessly through Tumblr. My disconcerted silence was ignored again as my mind slipped into fantasies of a billion different ways that I could assassinate Calum Mitchell.

_

For the first time in a while, my emotions started to get the better of me. Generally, I try to keep things bottled and not really open up to anyone about what I’m thinking or what’s really going on in my mind, exactly why only my mother knows who I’ve been pinning after since I was eight. I know it wasn’t healthy, but that’s just what I did. Clyde and Token weren’t really the kind of guys you have those deep conversations with. However, a lot of shit seemed to be happening to me all at once: Tweek and Calum’s reunion, school stressing me out, and the perpetual cloud of anger and unrest that loomed over my head. 

I was never diagnosed with depression or anxiety or anything like that, but I knew how it felt to be perpetually sad. For one reason or another, there were periods of my life when I felt like absolute shit persistently and getting out of bed was the most difficult part of my day. It was as though I was walking around with chains hooked around my ankles. Maybe I had problems that I never knew about or it was all just hormones, but the only thing that was certain is that sometimes it got to be too much.

Whenever Clyde or Token were upset about something they would just whine or punch a wall, and Tweek was constantly in a state of freaking out. When he was upset, it just got worse. None of that was my style. Generally, I just rolled my eyes and moved on. That day, however, I had a strong urge to rant and verbally express my pent up emotions.

So, there I was, ready to actually open up to my friend, Clyde. He was in the sphere of very limited people that I can put my trust in, so I had hoped it wouldn’t be as horribly awkward and painful to express my hatred for Calum and my desire to rip my own hair out.

“Hey, dude,” I greeted Clyde on entering his bedroom. I pursed my lips to prevent myself from snorting at him lifting weights in his underwear. “What’s up?”

“What’s it look like, genius?” Clyde retorted after a grunt of exertion. His hair was caked to his forehead with sweat, and his bare chest was dripping as well. Clyde as decently built at that point. Either that or I was just spectacularly out of shape. I had to admit, if nothing else, Clyde was extremely dedicated to football. Or, being popular. I couldn’t quite differentiate them sometimes, and I don’t think he could either. 

I shrugged, “Being a douchebag?”

He carefully set his thirty-five-pound dumbbells on the carpet before him. “I’m working out my arms so I can throw the football harder and faster. I think I have a pretty good shot at being the new quarter back. Only me, Stan, and a few other guys really want it. People may still think Stan’s better than me, which I don’t agree with at all but whatever, but I’m definitely better than those other guys.”

It was true that Clyde was pretty decent at football. It had gotten to the point where it wasn’t fun to play with him and Token anymore when I was about twelve. I didn’t know if Clyde was necessary talented enough to be a quarterback, though, back-up or not. “Good luck with that. So, uh—“

“Can you believe the fucking timing for Stan breaking his arm?!” Clyde exclaimed as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with a rag. “Like, just when I started to get really accurate with my throws, the only thing that’s been in my way is finally gone. I honestly don’t even really care that the poor dude is out for the whole season, I’m so excited! It’s about time they gave someone else a chance in sports, y’know?”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like they really had a choice.”

“Well, no,” Clyde agreed with a shrug. “But they’re not gonna be disappointed when I’m quarterback. Maybe I’ll even get to keep the position when Mr. Perfection-Sporty-Guy recovers.”

Chewing my lip, I nodded and leaned against the wall. I began to fiddle with a strayed string on my hoodie while he did another routine with his weights. I had to build up the nerve to say, “Hey, dude, can I talk to you about something?”

“Ah, dude, can it wait?” Clyde huffed back immediately, turning his tired head towards me. “I gotta work out some more and then go throw the ball. But, I think I’m free Monday? Maybe…”

The first time in years that I swallowed my pride and try to actually talk about something I was going through with a friend, he doesn’t have enough time for me. I pulled my lips into a tight line and pushed myself off the wall, “Yeah, sure, man.”

Clyde sighed in what I couldn’t distinguish between relief and exhaustion. “Alright, man, see you later!”

I scoffed aloud after exiting his bedroom. It was weird how much Clyde had actually hurt my feelings. Usually I wouldn’t give a shit if someone blew me off or didn’t want to talk to me, but he was supposed to be someone that I trusted and actually cared about.

Maybe I wasn’t totally right about high school changing things. Clyde was definitely becoming someone I didn’t recognize, Tweek was acting totally different, and I was getting all emotional. If I could help any of those things, it was myself. I decided to just push away all my negative emotions about Tweek, and the positive ones. He was my best friend and that was good enough, or, at least the only option I had. There was nothing that I could do to stop him from being with Calum, platonically or romantically, and it was fine. I was fine.


	5. Chapter 5

On Tuesdays, Tweek and I’s extracurricular activities occurred simultaneously, which meant someone to kill time with in the library until Photography Club began. For him, it was Chess Club, an apparently ill-conceived plan.

“They don’t let you _not_ play, man,” Tweek told me with a dead-serious expression across his face. “I tried to sit out and those nerds dragged me into a full-on tournament between the five of us. And it’s so much harder than I remember! Plus, they had a timer going!”

I stifled a laugh, “Do you at least know how to play?”

“Sort of! Not good at all, though! I got my ass handed to me. And they were all really stressed out at me because I couldn’t work the timer and I always took as long as possible.” He explained in a panicked tone. “I really wish I would have done photography club with you instead.”

I cocked an eyebrow at that hopeful thought, “They would probably let you switch. I mean, it’s just a club.”

Tweek frowned. “I would ask, but… You know… Authority figures scare me…”

I chuckled, patting his arm. “You’ll be alright, man.”

As he began to explain another nerve-wrecking aspect of his new club, his phone buzzed right in front of us. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the name ‘Cal’ popped up on Tweek’s screen. I managed to catch a glimpse of the message before Tweek swiftly swiped his phone off of the table: _Hey, baby. Are you still with Craig?_

As Tweek fumbled to remove the message from my line of sight, I asked crossly, “ _Baby_? Are you dating him again?”

“No, no, no,” He assured me, shaking his head from side to side as he pounded his thumbs against the screen that was tilted away from me. “No, I’m not dating him, he just—he still uses those pet names for me. But, he uses them on everyone, so, it’s not like anything _romantic_.”

“You’re the worst liar I have ever met.” I said, completely unconvinced.

“I’m not lying!” He shrieked, his widened eyes scanning the otherwise quiet library when he realized his volume. Swallowing, Tweek tried again in a softer tone, “I swear to god, I’m not dating him, we’re just friends.”

More than anything, I was frustrated because I knew he was lying. Perhaps they weren’t officially dating, but he did not just call everyone _baby_ or _angel_ as he did Tweek. It didn’t help that it made my stomach twist unpleasantly to know that someone else was calling him pet names on top of mentioning my name.

“Whatever.” I sighed, deciding to just drop the matter before I let myself get any more upset. The last thing I wanted in that moment was to wear my heart on my sleeve for Tweek to see.

Unfortunately, Tweek knows me better than to believe I had let it go. “Craig,” he whined, leaning against me. “I’m not lying! I wouldn’t lie to you, dude! Please don’t be mad at me, I hate it.”

I wanted to be mad, but I made the mistake of gazing back at his face as it rested against my shoulder. His gorgeous green eyes were pleading. If I believed anything of what he had told me it was that he didn’t want me to be angry with him. I let out a sigh and stowed my gaze forward again, “I’m not mad at you, Tweek. I’m just worried about you. He is just going to hurt you again.”

Tweek reeled back and shook his head, “I’m not letting myself get hurt again. I promise. I’m looking out for Tweek this time.”

“You know that’s all I’m doing, too, right? It’s not that I don’t want you to date him or do your own thing.” I let him know.

“I know, and it means a lot. I just… I don’t want to lose Calum, Craig. I know he was shitty to me, but he was such an important part of my life. It feels weird without him. But it’s just a friend’s relationship.”

I still didn’t necessarily believe that there was nothing going on between them, but if Tweek swore they weren’t dating, I trusted him. There was nothing that said they wouldn’t pick up where they left off in the future, but for then my fragile ego was somewhat protected from the world’s biggest asshole getting to make-out with my crush.

Tweek still felt guilty for the text-message incident when we parted ways to go off to our respective clubs, even though I had assured him that I was okay. I suppose he didn’t believe my lies either.

On entering the classroom, my gaze landed on Thomas, who was the only person I could either tolerate or was familiar with. I made my way to the back of the classroom to claim the seat beside him, and as I did so, he granted me a charming smile. “Hey, Craig.”

“Hey.” I returned with a half-hearted grin. I plopped down and set my book bag on the table before us. A glance to my side revealed him fiddling with a high-definition camera. I huffed, “Were we supposed to bring our cameras today?”

“ _Fuck cock_ ,” Thomas spat, but his wide eyes told me it was a tick. He cleared his throat, “Sorry, I mean—uh, we could if we wanted. Like, we’re just gonna share pictures that we’ve already taken on our own.”

“Oh, god,” I groaned at the thought of Cartman’s over-the-top slide-show that was sure to commence.

Thomas pointed to the front of the room where Cartman was hooking his camera up to the computer with a cocky smirk across his lips as is he could read my mind, “I don’t even want to know what the hell he takes pictures of.”

I snorted, “Back in the fourth grade, it was him sucking Butters’s dick.”

“What the fuck?!” He snapped his head back at me with an expression of disgust across his face, “Are you serious?! That would have scarred me for life.”

“It definitely came up in a few nightmares.”

Thomas muffled his laughter as Jamie began to speak in the front of the small congregation of photographers. “Hey everyone! So, as I said Friday, we’re going to share some of our own photography. Eric Cartman has asked… Or, uh, insisted that he go first. So, please give him your attention!”

Cartman strolled to the front of the class with hinds hands tucked behind his back. As he began his irritating presentation I turned my attention to Thomas, who appeared equally bored. I lowered my voice to a whisper, “Are you gonna share your pictures?”

Thomas shook his head, “Nah, I don’t think that’d be a good idea. _Shit_.”

I perked my head to the side, “Why not?”

“My ticks are a lot worse when I’m anxious. It’d probably just be a lot of cussing…”

“But that would be awesome,” I assured him with a far-off grin. “But it seems like you don’t tick as much as you used to.”

Thomas nodded and grinned, “Thank God. I’ve met a lot with neurologists and therapists who taught me different techniques on how to control it a little more. It still happens a lot, though.”

I shook my head, “Man, I would never want to control it. I could cuss at annoying assholes anytime I wanted and totally get away with it—”

“Excuse me, Craig and Thomas, is there something you would like to share with the rest of the class?” Cartman address us from the front of the room, as if speaking in front of twelve people gave him remote authority.

“This is what I’m talking about,” I said to Thomas before rolling my eyes and facing Cartman. “I just telling Thomas about how you’re a dick and your pictures suck.”

I earned a few muffled laughs from my fellow club-goers, but Cartman was far less amused by my public insulting. He huffed, “Well, I don’t see _you_ getting up here and showing off your photography skills, Craig.”

After sticking my middle finger up at him, we both moved on from the slight altercation. Thomas’ hand was cupped over his mouth, brown eyes shining at me as if I had done something crazy and hilarious. I had to admit, Thomas was still pretty cute. I didn’t have nearly as big of a thing for him as I did back in the fourth grade when he moved to our school and I was introduced to the wonders of Tourette’s Syndrome for the first time. However, he was sweet, and he seemed to like me.

“I’ve gotta say, Cartman’s pictures are better than mine.” Thomas admitted with a sigh, switching through the images on his Nikon. He twitched, “ _Cock!_ ”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” I scoffed and leaned in to examine the photos with him. They were simple—a skylight, a ‘No Outlet’ sign with a blackbird resting on the top, a snow-covered pine tree with dark clouds looming above it. As I reeled back into my previous sitting position, I assured him, “They’re really nice, dude. Cartman’s aren’t exactly anything special.”

The dirty blond beside me shrugged. Before I could protest, he pointed his camera’s wide lens at my face and snapped a picture. I flinched at the flash and knit my eyebrows together. “What’d you do that for?!”

Thomas was grinning down at the photo he had taken proudly, before he answered my question in a vaguely shy tone, “Now I _definitely_ have better pictures.”

Admittedly, I was caught off-guard by the flirtation. It had been the first time to date the correct gender had flirted with me. Before I came out I had quite a few girls that thought I was cute, which at the time completely went over my head for obvious reasons. But, I had never had a boyfriend, and I had never had a boy interested in me. It was always just me illicitly loving Tweek.

I wasn’t even quite sure if I still had a crush on Thomas or not, but it made me feel great that he was flirting with me, especially after the incident with Tweek and Calum just before this. Perhaps it was just my ego being stroked, but I definitely felt a little flutter in my stomach.

I didn’t quite reply to Thomas’ remark, but I smiled widely at him, and he seemed to understand that I was flattered. The rest of the club was spent by us quietly giggling to one another as the other members shared and explained their visual art to us.

_

“Fuck,” I muttered to myself after the sixth attempt at a math problem came out incorrect in my calculator. Slamming down my mechanical pencil against my text-book, I pulled at my hair. “I hate math.”

School work in general had slowly been increasing difficulty-wise since middle-school, but immediately after entering that year it became impossible. Trigonometry is like foreign language with a lot more calculating and wishing you were dead. I was strongly considering just not doing it and stealing answers from Token the following day, but the fact that I couldn’t do it on my own kind of stressed me out.

Flicking my eyes to my iPhone, I thought about calling Tweek to carp about my arduous life, but as soon as he popped into my head, my stomach felt queasy. Instead, I dialed Token’s number and pressed the device against my ear.

“Hello?” Token’s voice answered after a few rings.

“Dude,” I began with a deep sigh. “Did you do the trig homework yet?”

“Yeah.” he told me simply from the other end.

I groaned, tapping my eraser against my notebook paper, “I’m trying right now and I have no fucking clue what’s going on. Is your’s done?”

“Yeah, you can have the answers tomorrow.”

“I just wish I knew how to do it, y’know? It’s so much harder than just last year.” I sighed. “I would call Clyde to help me, but he doesn’t care about anything but football right now. I sort of hope he doesn’t get quarterback so he doesn’t think he’s the shit.”

“Uh, yeah,” Token replied.

I frowned when I realized that he wasn’t totally interested in talking to me. I asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just a little busy.”

“Oh. Well, I’ll let you go, then.”

“Alright, man, see ya. Good luck with math.”

The line went dead immediately after that, and I stared down at his contact for a few seconds, _Mr. T_. His picture was of him after his girlfriend had given him a make-over. Disbelieving, I scoffed, “Damn. Oh-for-two.”

Why is it that none of my closet friends seemed to want anything to do with me anymore? It had barely even been two weeks into a new school year. Had everything really gotten all that much different?

I tried not to panic myself over that thought, but the signals I was receiving from the guys were pretty strong. Maybe I was finally being pushed out of everyone’s agendas. Perhaps I had even helped to on my own by being so introverted. I didn’t know why things seemed to be shifting, but I did know that I did not like it. I liked my routines, I liked predictability. I did not like the prospect of all this change.


	6. Chapter 6

Despite the fact that Clyde had neglected to text or call me for the entirety of the week, the group chat between Tweek, Token, and himself exploded with twenty messages urgently instructing us all to meet a Tweek Bro’s. Purely out of a combination of spite and laziness, I considered concocting an excuse as to why I couldn’t make it.

At that juncture I remained glued to the comfort of my mattress and I did not particularly want to move. It was only noon on a Sunday, after all. On a normal weekend, Clyde would not have attempted to get me out of bed for a least another hour or so, around when church was over for all the kids whose parents still managed to drag them every week. Meanwhile, I was going on my second hour of scrolling through my various social media apps.

Fighting my reluctance, I typed out a text saying that I’d be there soon. I figured I had absolutely nothing better to do with my weekend, and it could potentially get me out of babysitting my little sister. I pushed my warm duvet from my bare legs and stood to my feet, stumbled to my closet and retrieved a somewhat matching t-shirt and flannel, which I threw on before tugging on a new pair of black jeans. I had really hoped that I was done growing by then, because I was already six-four at the ripe age of fifteen years old. Buying new jeans was tedious for me and expensive for my parents.

After sliding on my black shoes and a baseball cap to cover my disheveled hair, I stepped out of my house and onto the pavement. The journey to Tweek Bro’s was relatively short from my house, but much more tolerable with my earbuds blasting music in my ears to block out the honking of cars and bustling of my neighbors.

Growing up in a mountain town doesn’t exactly make you impervious to cold weather, but after fifteen years of that familiar sensation of the bitter wind nipping at my exposed nose and cheeks, my body grew accustomed to being cold regardless of season. Although September had barely begun, temperatures had already begun to consistently drop. If you were able to disregard the frostbite, South Park had some beautiful, picturesque scenery surrounding it. Snow-covered, grey mountains stretched for miles with a vast valley of hills to catch the falling precipitation, and the occasional falling rocks (which was a actually pretty terrifying to watch). As you came closer to the town from the wilderness, the hills became littered with deep green pine trees. It would have been almost serene if I didn’t know how insane everyone living in the town actually was.

I was grateful when I finally reached Tweek’s family establishment and ducked inside. The heat immediately radiated against my flushed face and relieved my numbing fingertips. I was relieved to see that Token was already leaning against the counter and conversing with Tweek as he hustled about behind the counter. I stifled my grin but it was relieving to see the familiar fight before me, my friends talking amongst each other like nothing was askew.

“Hey, Craig.” Tweek greeted when his tired, green eyes found me, a kind smile splayed across his lips. I wished he wasn’t so fucking adorable in the Tweek Bro’s visor he had sometimes worn.

“Hey,” I returned with a half-grin. “Any idea why we’re here?”

Token rolled his eyes, “No, but apparently it’s the single most important thing to ever happen to anyone ever.”

Tweek chuckled, “If nothing else, Clyde is great at exaggerating.”

We all laughed in agreement as I took a seat beside Token. I was sure that it was just me, but there was this weird tension hanging in the air. It was unlike anything I had experienced with this particular group before, and very unsettling. Maybe they didn’t feel it and it was just the aftermath of them taking steps away from their friendships with me. Maybe I just inherited Tweek’s crippling anxiety.

“You guys!” An exasperated voice called out from the glass door that had swung wide open. Clyde trotted in and collapsed against the counter between Token and I.

I side-stepped away from him, “Did you run here or something?”

“From the high school,” Clyde confirmed, drenched in sweat. “I have the single most amazing news ever that I couldn’t ethically tell you guys over text about.”

“What is it, dude?” Token pressed, both curious and impatient.

Clyde sucked in a few more necessarily heavy breaths, pushing himself upright and curling his lips into a cocky smirk. “Guess who made the back-up quarterback of the South Park Cow’s high school football team!”

“Scott Malkinson?” Tweek guessed in a facetious tone, making me laugh aloud.

Clyde shook his head, his grin growing impossibly wider when he announced, “Clyde Donovan!’

“That was my second guess.” Tweek shrugged.

“Mine was Butters.” I added.

Token rolled his eyes endearingly at us and stood to grant Clyde a bro-hug, “Congrats, man. This is really awesome for you.”

“Thanks, dude!” Clyde gushed, bouncing as Token pulled back and reclaimed his stool.

I nodded at him, “Good for you.”

Clyde smiled at me and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “How does it feel, you guys? Best friends with the new secondary captain of the football team. All of our social statuses just sky-rocketed! Maybe I’ll even get a chance to go out with Bebe now!”

Tweek and I exchanged looks, non-verbally agreeing that this kid was delusional. But, considering the fact that I had never seen him happier, I wasn’t about to burst any of his bubbles. “Bebe’s dating Jason.” Token reminded him.

“Well… Yeah…” Clyde answered, faltering slightly but quickly inflated back to his hyperactively ecstatic state. “But nothing lasts forever! I could have my shot this year, you guys. I knew it was gonna be kick ass.”

From where I was standing, this year had been anything but kick ass so far. I forced myself to take a good look at where all my friends were. Clyde had just received the position he had been dying for since the third grade, Token had a beautiful girlfriend and was in the running for president of the sophomore student council, and Tweek was obsessed with his intro to art class as well as making up with an ex-boyfriend. Things were looking up for everyone, and really, I was happy for them all. It just sort of stung that none of those great things included me.

“Craig?” It was Tweek’s voice that dragged me from my emo-sulking thoughts. “Are you okay?”

I flicked my stare to him and nodded, “Yeah.”

His expression told me that he didn’t quite believe me, but before he would have even thought about asking me if I was lying, Clyde was pulling up back into his own little world, “By the way, you guys, tickets for the first game of the season are on me.”

“You do know we all have seven dollars available, right?” I pointed out.

Clyde shrugged, “Sure, but I wanna do this! You guys are my number one supporters. I appreciate you a lot.”

“Awe, he’s getting sappy on us,” Token cooed and pinched his cheeks. “We’ll be there, Cap’n.”

“For sure,” Tweek promised with a grin as he reached his arm over the counter with a frozen coffee beverage in his hand. “But for now, this is for you, on the house.”

“Tweekers, you didn’t have to do this! I mean, I’m gonna drink it, but you didn’t have to.” Clyde barely finished before sucking in the iced beverage through the green straw.

The blond chuckled, “Congrats, man. I’m proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you for managing to break Stan’s arm.” I remarked as Clyde turned to me. 

Clyde laughed, “I know in your own morbid way you’re happy for me, Craig. C’mon, give me a hug.”

“No, you’re sweaty—“

“Bring it in, brotha!” Clyde asserted before wrapping me in a tight embrace and nuzzling his face into my neck. “Feel my love.”

“You disgust me.” I sighed, but returned the gesture anyways. “But, good job. I hope you get to play a couple games.”

“I will,” He promised, reeling back and patting my cheek. “And it’s gonna be fucking awesome!”

_

I took matters into my own hands the next day at school in terms of Clyde’s behavior. He was still buzzing from his newly appointed sports position, causing him to immediately start showing off. When lunch time rolled around and Stan Marsh was at the table adjacent to us, I warned Clyde to not do as he had planned and rub his face in it.

He huffed, “Why not?! I’ve been dreaming of sticking it to that asshole since sixth grade! This is my shot!”

“Look, I could give two shits about Stan’s feelings,” I promised Clyde honestly. “But if you mess with him, you mess with the rest of them, and frankly, I don’t have the energy. So, just be cool.”

Clyde groaned at me as if I were a scolding mother, but agreed to be civil nonetheless. Tweek shot me a _thank you_ look as we settled down onto the lunch table. It wasn’t long until we caught the sport-enthusiast’s attention from the next table over, however.

“Hey, Clyde,” Stan called, immediately obtaining my group’s attention. He smiled, “Congrats on making quarterback!”

“Thanks, man.” Clyde replied, biting back a sardonic expression. Despite Stan’s perpetual civility, Clyde was never able to stand the dude. It was purely out of petty jealousy, but I can’t say much since I had the same feelings towards him. I will never get over Peru.

“Hey,” Cartman greeted abruptly from behind me. His voice was even louder than normal, and his expression was droopy and awkward.

As soon as Kyle opened his mouth, he confirmed my suspicions. “Are you fucking _high_?”

Cartman giggled, turning his head towards the annoyed Kyle, and thus myself. His dilated pupils officially confirmed he was fucked up on something, “Maybe just a ‘lil.”

“Here we go,” Stan sighed, resting his cheek against his good arm.

“Are you serious right now?! What are you on?” Kyle demanded, reaching for Cartman’s wrist and checking his pulse. “I swear to God, you’re so fucking stupid. It’s bad enough that Kenny smokes a pack a day, but now you think it’s cool to pop pills!”

“Ky, I know you’re mad at me right now,” Cartman assured him with a goofy expression. It soon returned to its relaxed state however as he said, “But I have no clue what the fuck you just said.”

Clyde had to laugh at Cartman’s reaction, which quickly earned him a glare from soccer-mom Broflovski. He put his hands up in mock submission, “I dunno, man, what’s the big deal? I mean, look at him—he’s totally chilled out. When is Cartman ever chilled out when he’s sober?”

“Can’t deny his point,” I added with a shrug.

Kyle scoffed indignantly, “The big deal is that he’s going to destroy his liver! Whether or not you pro-drug assholes want to admit it, ingesting a drug that messes with your brain chemistry is proven to do irreversible damage. And he _promised_ me he was done with this shit.” Based on the lazy smile curving Cartman’s lips, he certainly had no regard for any promise he had made to his friend in the past. Exasperated, Kyle turned to Kenny for support, “Doesn’t it bother you even a little?”

Peering up from the homework he was lazily scribbling down before his next class, Kenny shrugged his shoulders, “Dude, this is Cartman. Once he starts something stupid like this, he’s not gonna stop until he learns how dumb it is on his own. I’m just gonna wait it out.”

Out of all four members of Stan’s gang, Kenny was the one I could tolerate the most. Maybe it was because he was pretty attractive or generally quiet, (or the lip piercing he had recently gotten looked super hot) but he just had this undeniable charm about him that allured anyone within a ten-foot radius. His history of drugs and violence with his parents was no secret to the rest of the town, so I wasn’t surprised that he wasn’t a supporter of Cartman’s new undesirable habits. Kyle, on the other hand, was a relentless advocate against it.

Kyle groaned. “I don’t get how you can just wait it out. He’s killing himself! Imagine how pissed his mom would be if she found out he was doing this to himself.”

Stan snorted, “Dude, I think _your_ mom would care way more than his.”

Kyle shook his head. “Whatever. There’s no way I’m gonna let you keep doing this.”

Cartman just shrugged. “I’m fine, Kyley.”

“You’re fucking stupid.”

“Fucking married,” I accused, casually stowing my gaze away from the pair of them and towards Tweek, who was chuckling at my implication.

“If me giving a shit about him fucking up his life makes us married, then fine! I seem to be the only one who realizes how serious this is.” Kyle huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and watching Cartman’s eyelids slowly droop closed with disdain written across his face.

“You’re not the only one who realizes how serious this is, Kyle,” Clyde assured. “you’re just the only one who _cares_.”

Kyle let the subject die, and for a while, Tweek and I were engaged in a decent conversation. Then something far worse than popping pills came sliding up to the bench beside Tweek, wearing a large grin across his stupid, smug face.

“Hey, love,” Calum greeted Tweek, interrupting him in the middle of a sentence. He was wearing a grey beanie over his ugly brown hair like a douchebag.

“Oh, uh, hi,” Tweek greeted in returned, a vaguely confused expression crossing his face. It made my heart twist to watch him turn and avert all of his precious attention to Calum. “Do you need something?”

Calum shrugged, “I just wanted to come talk to you. Why don’t we ever eat lunch together?”

“Because I hate you,” I spat. Honestly, it was a reflex, and I sort of regretted being so blunt when I earned an angry look from Tweek.

Calum’s lips pulled into that fake, pity-collecting frown. His gaze flicked from myself to Tweek, and his voice lowered, “Now I remember.”

“Craig, don’t be an asshole!” Tweek warned me with a disbelieving nod. “I’m sorry, Cal. You—you can sit with us anytime, really, it’s okay. How are you today?”

In the moment, all I could focus on was the smug-ass smirk that Calum shot me before he struck up a full-on conversation with Tweek. My knuckles physically clenched as every centimeter of my being wanted to colonize my fist with his face. I wished more than anything that he would leave our table, and then leave our school, our town, our city, our state, our _planet_.

“God, I hate that guy.” Clyde muttered to me.

I let out a long huff. If nothing else, I was grateful that I momentarily had his support on this subject. Taking my personal vendetta out of the fact, Calum was nothing but trouble for Tweek from the moment they met. It wouldn’t be long before some massive shit-storm blew all over everything in its wake.


	7. Chapter 7

The very last day that Token was forced to endure public transportation was so much more dramatic than I could have ever predicted. He was supposed to receive his 2016 Ford Escape a while ago, but his father told him that he wouldn’t purchase the car until he actually got his license. When it was mid-October, and a good two months into the school year, he was beyond prepared for the day of his final driver’s test.

In terms of our group dynamic, it had been a peculiar month. Clyde and Token were perpetually busy with their corresponding after-school activities, but when they did have time to hang out with one another, they had built up a strange and uncomfortable tension. Every time Clyde would boast about something great he did at football practice, Token would roll his eyes and shut down for a few minutes. He was so exasperated that he didn’t even show up to the first game of the season with Tweek and me. As for Clyde, he was too self-centered to notice that he forced Token to thrive on his very last nerve.

After the bus screeched to a halt before us that morning, our group (with the exception of Tweek, who was MIA at the time) we climbed up and took our seats. For some time, Token had been exasperated to sit beside Clyde and listen to the incessant tales of his sporting endeavors, but that day, he was particularly not having his shit.

“—I mean, obviously, only the stats at the end of the year can tell, but I think I’m actually doing better than Marsh as a quarterback.” Clyde claimed with a lazed smirk across his lips.

Token narrowed his eyes, staring ahead with a clenched jaw, “You’ve played a total of five quarters, Clyde. You haven’t even done a full game.”

“Not yet! But it’ll happen, and I’m really confident about it. Y’know, I really think Stan breaking his arm was the best thing that could’ve happened to the team this year. And then he went and aggravated it like an idiot playing basketball. Honestly, no one seems to miss him.”

“No one misses him because he helps the coach call plays on the sidelines,” Token corrected, turning his increasingly irritated gaze towards Clyde. “Because he’s a great player.”

Clyde shrugged, “Yeah, sure, he’s pretty good, but I’m doing great, and I think the coach knows that, too. Like, if me and Marsh played a full game against each other, I’d have a pretty good shot.”

I glanced a few rows back to see the subject of Clyde’s ego-induce shit-talking and reminded him, “You are aware that Stan can, not only hear you, but easily kick your ass even with a broken arm?”

“Seriously,” Token scoffed. “You’re not as hot shit as you think you are.”

Clyde furrowed his eyebrows at our blunt remarks. He twisted his body towards Token and exclaimed, “What the fuck’s your problem, man? You’ve been on my ass since I got quarterback. Are you jealous or something?”

Token scoffed melodramatically at the accusation, “God, no. If being the _backup_ quarterback of a _shitty_ high school team means that I climb so far up my own ass that I see my man-crush, Stan Marsh, in there then I’m pretty okay without it.”

“Dude! I don’t have a crush on Stan Marsh, I’m straight!” Clyde shot back defensively, keen on protecting his sexuality above all else. “And I’m not up my own ass. I’m just confident, okay? It’s a good thing to be confident!”

“Yeah, it’s good to be _confident_ , but you’re a jackass.” Token distinguished.

Despite the fact that this would only pull on another loose thread and make the group less cohesive, I was enjoying this interaction. My occasional cynical comments towards Clyde were usually brushed off his shoulder as a personality trait of mine, but Token calling him out cut deeper than I ever could. Of course, it did nothing more than boost him farther up on his self-appointed pedestal, but it at least let him know that not everyone thought he was as magnificent as he thought he was.

Clyde shook his head and faced forward again. “Whatever, man. I thought you’d be happy for me.”

“I was happy for you,” Token assured. “But if I have to hear one more time about how much cooler you are than Stan, I’m gonna punch your head off.”

“Well, congrats,” the other boy began as we pulled into the school’s parking lot. I watched as everyone stood and Clyde brushed past Token. “you never have to hear me talk about football again.”

With that, he stormed off and into the school. Token peered over at me with a torn expression. He sighed, “Not hearing him talk about football sounds so fucking blissful. But, I was kind of a dick.”

I shrugged and filed out of the bus with him, “Clyde is kind of a dick. But, he always responds to you reaching out to him.”

Token sighed heavily and scuffed his boots against the concrete path that lead us into the school. “I honestly don’t know if I want to reach out to him anymore. Obviously I love the dude, but I haven’t enjoyed hanging out with him since this summer. As soon as he got the position of quarterback, nothing else in the world was important to him. It sucks ass.”

“I know what you mean.” I told him, not pointing out the fact that he had also been blowing me off since the beginning of the school year, but I elected to ignore it for the time being.

Token shrugged and spun around on his heels, “Catch you later, Craig.”

I waved to the back of his head and trudged down the hall to my locker. Token and Clyde’s fight was entertaining at first, but when I considered the aftermath, I wasn’t laughing. The four of us guys were all really close, but just as Tweek and I were _best_ friends, Token and Clyde were. It was disconcerting and challenging to see them drifting apart over something as trivial as football.

I was surprised to see Tweek came up to me as I was retrieving my items for first period. His face was completely flushed, and his eyes were blood-shot and glossy. Tears were streaming down his rosy cheeks as his chest rose and feel dramatically. “Craig,” he managed to gasp my name before a bought of tremors and sobs commandeered his ability to speak.

“Hey, hey, come here,” I pinched my eyebrows together and collected him in my arms. Disregarding the audience he had attracted, I soothingly rubbed his back in attempts to calm him down. “Breathe, Tweek. What happened?”

“I can’t,” He choked and clang to me for dear life as his body vibrated hysterically.

“Fuck,” I muttered to myself at the realization that he was having a full-on panic attack.

This was not my first time dealing with one of these, and not even the first one at school. I guided him to the almost private boy’s bathroom, helping him navigate through crowds of classmates with judgmental gazes. I really didn’t care how we looked; I had to make sure Tweek wasn’t going to pass out on me.

When we made it to the dingy restroom, I stood before him and captured both his hands in either of mine to prevent him from satisfying his trichotillomanic urges. Tweek’s breathing was nothing more than erratic gasps for air, and I could sincerely hear the rapid beat of his heart. As always, his anxiety attack was disturbing to me, but maintaining a sedative composure was the first step in coaxing him into relaxation.

“Tweek,” I addressed him in an even tone. Despite the nasally quality of my voice, Tweek had always told me that it calms him down to hear me speak (I was a little too happy to hear him say that). All I really did was hold his hands or hug him when he needed to feel support, and give him some space when he didn’t want to be touched. I could never truly predict what he would need, but he had assured me that merely being in his presence was enough. “It’s going to be okay. You’re alright. I’m right here with you, and everything is okay. Can you please just take some deep breaths with me and then we can fix whatever’s going on?”

Tweek shook his head from side to side hastily, another stream of tears escaping his eyes. “No, no! My parents—my parents, they know,”

I lifted an eyebrow and took a step back to allow him some space after he jerked his clammy hands from my grasp. “They know what, Tweek?”

He only shook his head before lunging forward to pull me back and burying his face in my neck. Trying my damnedest to ignore the way his actions made my own heartrate increase, I wrapped my arms around him and shushed him as he bawled against me.

“Th-They know about Calum…” Tweek managed after a few horrible minutes of his gross-sobbing against my shoulder. He was still in tears, but his shaking and panicking began to subside. He took his time in reeling back to look at my face with his pained expression, grasping for my hands again. “You’re gonna be so mad at me.”

My stomach tied in unpleasant knots. I sighed, already pretty certain of what I was going to hear, “Why would I be mad at you?”

Tweek sighed and rubbed the water from his eyes, only for it to be replaced with fresh tears moments later. He spoke softly, as if confessing a sin, “Calum and I are dating… and my parents found out and they—they grounded me for two weeks.”

I seriously just wanted to scream. Every part of my body clenched with fury and injustice, and my mind began to go blank. I stowed my gaze away from Tweek’s big, teary eyes before I vomited. Never in my life had I ever felt the overwhelming urge to kick him in the balls before.

“Please,” I began after a moment to collect myself. “Please tell me you’re fucking joking right now.”

“I’m sorry,” Tweek cried, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Craig, I’m so sorry… I just—I don’t know what to do!”

Slowly, I pulled my hands away from him. I didn’t quite know what I wanted to say to him. My chest felt tight, like there was that scream trapped inside that couldn’t come out. Tweek repeated himself when I failed to respond, “I’m sorry, Craig… Please don’t hate me…”

I stowed my gaze back up to his face and was instantaneously smacked with another wave of pure vexation. When I opened my mouth I found that I was capable of words. I said, “You lied to me, Tweek. Right to my face, for a fucking month and a half. Why couldn’t you have just told me?”

“I-I wanted to! I felt horrible! I didn’t want you to be mad at me, and Calum thought that if I told you, you’d tell my parents, and they don’t want me to be with him!” Tweek stammered, frenzy returning to his aura. “I’m so sorry, Craig, I just—I didn’t know what to do. But, then mom read my texts, and it was such a mess. I don’t know what to do.”

I was becoming furious at the notion that he was in a relationship with someone like Calum again, that he had been lying to me this whole time, that he was dating someone that wasn’t me, and I still endured the conflicting desire to make sure he was able to breathe easy.

“Let me just get something straight,” I introduced before a short pause, necessary for me to gather my thoughts. “Calum, the guy that couldn’t decide if he loved you or other random crushes more, who threatened you with self-harm and suicide if you left him, who degraded you and made you feel like you didn’t matter at all for a fucking year,” my heart was pumping, and I swore I was going to run away if that tear fell from my eye. “He’s more important to you than your friendship with me, Token, and Clyde, _and_ your relationship with your parents?”

“No! Not at all, Craig, just let me—“

“No, you’ve made it pretty clear, Tweek. You’d choose him over us any day of the week, and you knew exactly what you were doing.” I smiled indignantly and peered away from him. My stomach was clenching enough without seeing his hurt-puppy expression.

Of all fucking people in the school that could have walked into the bathroom just then, it was Calum that trotted into the room with a concerned expression across his face. “Tweek? Tweek, baby, are you okay?” I took a dazed step back when he rushed to Tweek’s side and cupped his moist, rosy cheeks in his hands. Tweek’s waterworks started up again, lip quivering. “It’s okay, it’s okay,”

It took every ounce of self-control that I possessed to not drag Calum by his hair and drown him in a toilet. But when he turned his attention to me with an indignant expression—as if I were in the wrong—my shocking ability to keep my cool was taken away from me. “What the fuck did you say to him, Craig? Can’t you see his hurting right now?”

I laughed like I was the Joker, and I had been pushed to the brink of sanity. My voice was louder than I had ever heard it go, “Are you _fucking_ serious?” Calum nodded, pulling Tweek closer to him as if he were protecting him from me. I huffed, “You know what—fuck you. Both of you. Don’t even talk to me, Tweek. Have fun with this absolute piece of shit. _Fuck_ you both.”

With that, I angrily sauntered out of the bathroom and made my way to first period without looking back. It was my turn to physically shake, but instead of anxiety causing it, it was rage. I didn’t want to think, or talk, or look at anyone, or do anything. All I wanted to do was dig myself a hole where I could scream and cry and be livid.

Instead, I had to sit in a classroom full of assholes that I’ve known my whole life but still don’t give a shit about me. Not even Clyde or Token ignoring each other in the corner of the room noticed how angry I was. I couldn’t deal with anyone just then. Instead of taking my seat, I trudged up to Mr. Garrison’s desk and said, “Can I go see the nurse? I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“Sure, Craig,” the teacher said, listlessly waving his fingers towards the hall-passes that sat at the edge of his desk. I grabbed one and stormed out of the room. I had no intention of going to the nurse. I was going to go to the bathroom and wallow in my self-pity until I calmed down.

This had been the first time I had ever skipped class, and I was undeniably a bit tense about it. I know that Garrison wouldn’t give a shit if I never showed up in his class again, but I wouldn’t put ratting me out to my parents past some of my other teachers. But honestly, I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything at all. I was numb to any emotion that had been overflowing within me throughout the school year. I was devoid of color and feeling and anything but unadulterated indignation.

Desperate to erase thoughts of the whole situation from my mind, I tugged out my earbuds and turned music on full volume. I shut myself in a bathroom stall and leaned against the graffiti-infested wall, closing my eyes shut and focusing on the lyrics blasting through my ears. I fantasized about just disappearing into nothingness, just becoming a word scribbled in Sharpie onto a restroom wall.

I was fully aware that my life didn’t suck that bad and could, without difficulty, have been much worse, but I had never felt lower. Everything seemed to be crumbling beneath my feet. All I craved was the stability that I was accustomed to; I wanted my best friends back.

One thing I did decide for certain was that I needed to get over my feelings for Tweek.

_

I ended up spending first and second period shut up in the bathroom stall, repeating my playlist in order to get a grip. It was quite easy to understand why kids found solace in skipping classes. There was no way I could have sat there in public while I was feeling that way.

When I went back out into the world, I quickly discovered that there was no sympathy for me. As my fellow classmates passed me on their way to third period, I was given several dirty looks, and I even received a disgusted scoff from one of Calum’s friends. _Great_ , I thought. Even then, I couldn’t bring myself to care too much.

Lunch time rolled around at an agonizingly slow pace. I was eager for the free period to begin regardless of having virtually nobody to feel close to. Surprisingly, Clyde still sat beside me, but Token was across the cafeteria with Nichole, and Tweek with Calum. Even seeing them publically together didn’t affect me anymore. The number of fucks I gave went from ten to zero in one morning.

“Dude, what the hell happened with you and Tweek today?” Clyde inquired as soon as we sat down at the uncomfortable lunch table. “I mean, Calum was going around saying you screamed at him for no reason right after his parents flipped their shit on him for being gay again.”

I let out a short laugh and twisted the cap off of my water bottle, “Sure.”

“Well, obviously I think it’s bullshit,” he assured me. “So, what really happened?”

Being confronted with this topic made my heartbeat pick up again. I turned to him with a blank expression and extrapolated, “Tweek came up to me having a full-on panic attack this morning because he’s been dating Calum this whole time and his parents just found out.”

“No fuckin’ way,” Clyde gawked, peering over at the couple from across the cafeteria. “I never thought Tweek’d do that to us!”

Shrugging, I focused my attention on my Instagram feed and prayed that Clyde would let the topic die. However, it wasn’t Clyde that I would have to worry about.

“Can you please explain to me what the fuck your problem is?” Wendy Testaburger spat at me before even making it all the way to my table. When I gazed up at her, I could see that she was in rant-mode and she had chosen Calum’s side of the story. “Did you know that Tweek came into class _crying_ this morning? Because of _you_?”

I pinned her with an unbothered stare before flipping her off and peering back down at the post I was squinting to read on my phone. I felt no need to grace her ridiculous accusations with a response. Nobody knew the whole story besides the parties involved, and now Clyde.

“Ugh, you’re so fucking rude and pathetic. I can’t believe you don’t even feel bad for giving your best friend a panic attack! What’s Tweek ever done to you?” The cheerleader continued to drone on about something she knew nothing about.

Clyde stepped up against her, to my surprise, “Wendy, c’mon, that’s not what happened. You know Calum’s a huge bull-shitter.”

She scoffed, offended, “I know what I saw, Donovan. And I’ve got to say, Craig, I’m disappointed. I thought you were cool. But now I can see that you’re nothing but a heartless asshole like everyone thinks you are.”

“Okay, Wendy, lay off,” Kyle Broflovski called out from the table beside ours. That was even more unanticipated than Clyde actually defending me against someone that’s exceptionally popular. “Don’t pretend like you know the whole story. Even if you did, it would still be none of your damn business.”

“Ooh, cat fight!” Cartman exclaimed, simpering up at Kyle.

Wendy turned her jutted hip towards Kyle and snarled, “Excuse me, asshole, but I don’t remember asking for your opinion.”

“And _I_ don’t remember Craig asking for your’s. Can you please do everyone who has to listen to your bitching a favor and fuck off?” Kyle shot back instantly, matching the sass that Wendy attempted to intimidate him with.

Faltering, Wendy looked to her boyfriend for defense, who had been cowering into his text-book in attempts to avoid confrontation. “Stanley, are you just going to let Kyle talk to me like this?!”

“What—uh,” Stan coughed. His eyes were wide when he peered up, attempting to be nonchalant as if he weren’t aware of the possible blood bath that was about to take place. At that point, I was just enjoying the show. “I, uh… Kyle, don’t be a douche.”

Kyle chuckled at Stan’s insincere attempt to stand up for his girlfriend, but Wendy did not find it the least bit amusing. “Seriously, Stan?! Why don’t you ever take my side?”

Stan’s amused smile faded and he shrugged, “Wends, it’s just none of our business. Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?”

“Oh, what _ever_ ,” Wendy tossed her hands up in defeat. “You boys are all the same.”

With that, she strutted off in her noisy high heels and left me with Kyle to thank for her absence. My gaze met with his, and for the first time, I didn’t feel a swell of annoyance for his existence. Kyle granted me a half-hearted grin before returning to his own group’s conversation, with the exemption of Stan, who went after his girlfriend.

I became supremely jealous of the way Stan chose Kyle’s side over his girlfriend’s simply because Kyle was _right_. Judging Stan’s gang was always something that I did without thought, but perhaps there was something to their friendship. They each had their fights (daily, if you were Cartman and Kyle), but no matter what, they stuck with each other and protected one another like siblings.

Considering my own unstable relationships, I was actually envious of Kenny, Stan, Kyle, and Cartman. It almost physically pained me to admit that to myself, but it was true. I would have given up a lot of things to feel like I could count on someone in that moment. 


	8. Chapter 8

After electing to walk home that day in order to avoid confrontation I grabbed an un-opened bag of Doritos and headed to my room, where I planned to camp out for the rest of my life. Homework was obsolete for the time being, left in my locker along with my ten-dollar Avengers book-bag. There was nothing on my self-conceived agenda other than lazing around and inevitably chasing my little sister out of my room when she would decide to bother me.

Half way through my bag of chips, my phone buzzed with a notification. I considered ignoring whoever was trying to contact me, but curiosity caused me to glance at the screen and see that it was a message from Thomas. He was just about the only person that had my number from school that I wasn’t pissed at. The text read; _Hey Craig, I heard what happened at school today ): I hope youre ok and wanted to let you know that Im here for you if you need to talk_.

I couldn’t help but smile. After spending the past month or so feeling utterly empty and hopelessly alone, I was comforted by the thought that perhaps someone did care. Thomas had always been so unaffected and sweet towards me. I typed in response, _thanks man. it’s just a really bullshit situation. i’ll be fine tho._

Within a few seconds, I received another text saying, _Ok (: Btw Im going to take some pictures for photo club by Stark’s pond if you wanna hang out._

Just as I was replying with a lie about my mom making me clean the house, I paused and glanced back at the characters interacting on my laptop. Escaping reality through my millionth viewing of _The Office_ sounded appealing, but being with Thomas tipped the scale. I let Thomas know that I’d be there before pushing myself upwards and getting dressed. I removed my fingerless gloves from the top drawer of my dresser and the over-the-shoulder camera bag that was stashed away in my closet. Promptly after cleaning my lens and throwing on a heavy coat, I headed out the door and towards Stark’s Pond.

Photography club had been an unexpectedly positive aspect of my life. Since there were such a small number of members, we were actually starting to become friendly with one another, especially when we’d leave school to take pictures or pose for each other. It was a major upgrade to my repertoire, considering I pretty much only photographed my dog up close with a wide-angle lens.

On approaching Stark’s Pond, I found Thomas tinkering with his camera as he sat on the wooden bench. The top board was still covered in snow, but like any other Colorado native, he didn’t even notice. I ambled over to his side, where he greeted me with a little smile, “Hey, dude.”

“Hi,” Thomas spoke back, pushing himself to his feet after securing his Nikon around his neck. “It’s great to see you outside of the club.”

I grinned, “Same goes. Thanks for the invite.”

“For sure,” He replied. His sandy blonde hair was hidden behind a baseball cap, and it looked adorable on him. He wore a matching black, Champion pull-over and blue jeans. There was this effortless chicness to his look that I appreciated.

As we began tracing back towards a trail in the woods, wading through the snow and doing our best to not trip and fall against one another, Thomas blurted random obscenities a bit more than usual. I recalled that he said his ticks were worse when he was anxious, which made me selfishly grin a bit, “Are you alright?”

Thomas peered back at me, brown eyes wide and full of sincerity, “Yeah, I’m alright. Sorry for the, uh, y’know, Tourette’s stuff. This isn’t one of my better days.”

I shook my head, “You know I don’t mind it.”

He rolled his eyes playfully, “Right, you still think it’s _cool_.”

Chuckling, I shrugged, “Can you blame me?”

“I guess not,” Thomas empathized before pausing to capture a photo. There was a steady drip of snow from one branch of a pine tree to another, perpetuated by a bird fluttering about in the grand plant above. When he captured the image, he examined his handiwork before returning his sight to me, “What about you?”

Looking forward as we slowly trudged on, I inquired, “What about me?”

“Are you okay?”

Of course—that question. I was not sure if I was ready or willing to delve into the truth of my answer. I sighed, pointing my camera up at a cardinal to buy myself a moment to collect my thoughts. Eventually I was forced to reply with, “I’m fine. I just don’t like when every kid in school knows my drama.”

Thomas frowned, “The small-town complex is bullshit. If it’s any consolation, though, from what I heard, I think that Calum guy is a total idiot.”

“You would be right about that.” I scoffed as I toyed with the settings on my camera. The matter of Calum and Tweek being brought up wasn’t as upsetting as I had originally predicted. If anything, I was just too angry to care.

“I swear I’m not a nosy asshole, but what really did happen? If you don’t wanna talk about it just shut me up, but I just don’t think you purposefully made Tweek cry because he’s dating someone you don’t approve of.” Thomas explained, dancing around his words delicately.

I huffed in irritation, “No, that’s not at all what happened. The thing that pisses me off most about this whole mess is that Tweek isn’t stopping him from lying to everyone.”

“ _Shit_ ,” Thomas muttered, “That’s not a very good friend.”

“Not very,” I agreed forlornly. “Tweek came up to me this morning freaking out and talking about how his parents found out that he was dating Calum again and grounded him for it. Mind you—they did this because Calum really fucked him up. Like, they have every reason to be furious. And, on top of all that, he lied to everyone about it.”

Thomas scoffed, “And they tried to turn it around and make it look like your fault? Jesus. I thought people would be a little bit more mature than that by now.”

“They are not,” I confirmed, gaping out at the snowy foliage that comforted me in a way. I was in my element, a place where there were no walls, no students, no classes, and no Calum. It was liberating, and I craved an escape more than anything else that day. “But, honestly, I’m just going to take it in stride. I can’t force Tweek to break up with Calum, and I can’t force Calum to stop being a douchebag. The only person I can control is myself. I would rather be alone and have everyone hate me than deal with them, anyway.”

“That’s really smart of you, actually,” Thomas commented, but there was a certain gleam in his eyes as he continued. “But, you’re not alone. You have me now.”

My heart swelled at hearing those words leave someone’s lips. It meant a lot to me that day. I quickly looked elsewhere before I started bushing, “Why, though?”

Thomas bit back the urge to spit out a swear word before elaborating, “Because it’s you. And you’re great, and sensible, and open-minded, and your deadpan comments at everything that happens crack me up. And you’re really, really tall and cute.”

I rolled my eyes, simpering at his compliments despite myself, “I actually hate being this tall. But, thanks, Thomas.”

“No worries.” He grinned, and it made me feel a little less stupid to notice that his cheeks held a rosy tinge as well.

“You’re not all that bad yourself, you know,” I told him, nonchalantly focusing my camera on a log as I continued, “You’re funny and nice… And you’re really short and cute.”

Thomas chuckled, averting his attention away and scoping out the area for any more potential photos. The way I had made him laugh and blush filled me with pleasant feelings that inevitably washed away the perpetually shitty vibe that I had been enduring. On a spur of the moment decision, I raised my camera towards Thomas and focused it on his face. He turned towards me just in time for me to snap a picture of his confused expression with a nice display of white-covered trees in the background.

“Ugh, no!” Thomas made a face at me, “Was that some kind of pay-back?”

I chuckled and shrugged, “Maybe I just wanted to have some good pictures, too.”

I had never done this kind of thing before, considering the only feelings I ever had for anyone were unrequited. I apparently wasn’t too bad at flirting, as Thomas bit his lip and stared down at his camera, muttering in reply, “Then just take a bunch of selfies.”

This whole heart-palpitating thing wasn’t new to me; I had felt it before whenever Tweek came near me. This was a dissimilar kind of eager-heart-throbbing, though, because this time it was caused by someone that actually displayed an interest in me. Either I was becoming more mature in my romantic endeavors, or I was just happy to be validated as an acceptable homosexual dating candidate after being unofficially shot down by Tweek for years. Whichever way, I was starting to feel like Thomas may actually help me overcome those stupid feelings for my best friend after all.

_

Prior to that day outside of Stark’s Pond with Thomas, my new-found friend promised that he’d start sitting with me during lunch from then on. After we parted ways, we began texting each other almost immediately and the conversation continued all night. Thomas made it a lot easier to cope with everything that had been occurring and impeding my general contentment with my life.

As promised, Thomas met up with me at my locker before we journeyed to the cafeteria in unison. While I didn’t love the fact that Token and Tweek both moved from the table our group claimed at the beginning of the year, I was thankful that I wasn’t the one who had to find a new seat. Granted, I was still right beside Stan’s gang, but that didn’t bother me as much as it would have with everything going on. I predicted that it would be much better with Thomas there as well.

Clyde made a brief appearance before drifting off to sit with the rest of the football team as usual, but this time, I had Thomas to converse with instead of plugging in my headphones and ignoring everyone. “Who do you usually sit with?” I asked Thomas out of curiosity, feeling vaguely guilty for pulling him away from his other friends.

Thomas pointed to my left, “Over there with a couple kids that I’ve known for a while. They won’t miss me, though.”

I lifted an eyebrow, “You sure? You really don’t have to sit here with my boring ass.”

He smirked, shaking his head, “Your ass is definitely not boring.”

A cute boy flirting with me was definitely something I was getting used to. About halfway through lunch, my table was visited by a guest from the adjacent one. Stan momentarily exchanged his seat in order to properly address me, his facial expression appearing genuinely upset, “Hey, dude, I just want to say sorry about Wendy flipping her shit on you like that yesterday. You know as well as I do how she can be, but it was super uncalled for.”

I flicked my eyes from Thomas to the ex-quarterback, to the ex-quarterback’s nosy friends that all leaned in with him to pick up the exchange. At first, I didn’t really know how to respond. Those guys never really apologized to me before; even when they got me stranded in ancient Peruvian ruins after robbing me of my birthday money. “It’s whatever. It’s not your fault your girlfriend’s a bitch.”

Kyle snorted at my response, and Stan simultaneously frowned and shot his friend a warning glare. “Well, anyways, sorry that happened.”

“We all know Calum’s a lying asshole, by the way,” Kyle assured me with a disdainful expression. “I can smell his bullshit from a mile away.”

“Yeah, I’m team Craig.” Kenny added, half joking. 

Thomas laughed, “Same.”

The newly announced support from Stan’s gang was very odd to me. I had always assumed they shared a mutual disliking for me, but recent events proved otherwise. Maybe they just didn’t care enough to hold onto petty grudges from the past. Maybe they were sensible people who saw that Calum was a two-faced liar.

Cartman weighed in on the matter, “Tweek and Calum are both little scrotum-lickers if you ask me. They’re triggered by fucking everything, like they spent a weekend with PC principal. I’ve never taken any of their pointless drama seriously, even though it’s kind of like watching a reality show.” 

“It’s annoying, but you just gotta know what happens.” Kenny agreed.

I shrugged, “Honestly, if I ignore him, he’ll leave me alone eventually. I’m choosing not to be a part of it.”

Kyle scoffed, “I don’t know how you can do that, man. I’d be over there smearing the walls with his smug face if I were you.”

“It just doesn’t matter in the long run,” I assured them, peering back over at Thomas who was grinning fondly at me. “The last thing douchebags like Calum need is more attention.”

“Right, and somehow he has plenty of it,” Stan agreed, standing up from my table and heading back over to theirs’. He looked back at me before sitting down again, “And just so you know, you’re welcome at our table. Both of you.”

I replied with a simple grin before turning my attention back to Thomas, revealing my perplexed state. Thomas’s sole interactions with Stan’s gang at that point were creating a conspiracy with Kyle in order to stop Cartman from faking Tourette’s syndrome on _Dateline_ and thus prolonging the myth that it’s a fun disorder. It was really bad ass, and a big part of why I had a giant crush on him. He called Chris Hansen an ‘asshole-liking dickfart’ right to his face. It was awesome. Years later, he seemed to appreciate their outreach to my cause. “I didn’t expect those guys to be remotely nice. Like, ever.”

Glancing between Thomas and the neighboring gang of friends, I was having trouble deciding if I appreciated the fact that they weren’t buying Calum’s sob story or not. I spoke, “I don’t know what they could possible gain from this, but I just still don’t trust them.”

“I don’t know what they could gain from lying about believing you over Calum, either. Kyle’s pretty preachy, so I don’t think he’d pretend to agree with someone if he didn’t.” Thomas suggested, and I couldn’t deny his point. It was almost possible that I had misjudged Stan and those guys, but I still doubted their integrity. For then, I had only Thomas in my corner. I was pretty satisfied with that.


	9. Chapter 9

It been three days since Tweek had spoken to me, or even looked at me. I supposed he had really taken the ‘don’t even talk to me, Tweek’ portion of my anger-induced rant to heart. Of course, losing my closet friend since birth was depressing, but I wouldn’t allow myself to mope about it. Tweek had made a clear decision on who meant more to him, and I obviously was not at the top of his list. I had spent so many years fearing that that day would come, and when it did, I chose to feel numb instead of emotionally crippled.

I’d spent essentially all the available time with Thomas, which definitely improved the situation as well. Anytime I began to miss Tweek or slip into a negative mindset, I’d text him, and he’d replay straight away and put a smile on my face. Sadly, I actually wished that I had spent my whole life being best friends with Thomas instead of Tweek. It would have saved me a lot of years wasted on begging the universe to give me something that I’d never have; Tweek’s love and attention. Thomas gave me plenty of at least the latter.

Although Thomas had become my primary source of entertainment, I had very pertinent plans with Clyde that night. We had been planning to see a one-night only showing of a revamped Batman cartoon, _The Killing Joke_ , for months, and the day had finally come. I was both enthusiastic about and leery of the event coming and going. Once it was over, Clyde would no longer have an actual reason to continue his contact with me. Our conversations had been growing scarcer as time went on due to his metamorphic transformation into a full-scale, mirror-kissing, socially-adept-yet-soulless jock. If it had not been for this anticipated endeavor, I probably would have blown a fuse on him as Token did.

“How late are you going to be out?” Mom inquired for the fourth time in the span of twenty minutes. I really did try to cut her some slack—because after all, she was letting her fifteen year-old son attend an R-Rated movie at ten-thirty at night—but goddamn.

“I don’t know, mother,” I repeated, eyes wide. “probably around midnight.”  
She huffed at my obvious attitude, “Well, I’m sorry for being a little nervous! Clyde isn’t exactly your brightest friend.”

“Still, it’s me.” I assured her.

“Yeah, and you’re even dumber than Clyde. And gayer.” My little sister, Ruby, deadpanned from the other side of the couch. Ruby was ten, and she was already more of an asshole than me. I would have been prideful, but ninety percent of her snarky comments were at my expense.

I narrowed my eyes at her, “I may be gay, but you definitely got all the dumb genes. And you got them from Dad.”

“Hey!” Mom snapped before Ruby was able to fire back. “Quit talking to each other, it pisses me off.”

The two of us settled for flipping each other off and dropping the argument, but I was not off the hook in terms of being scolded. “Craig, I’m serious about tonight. Be responsible. I don’t want any calls from the theater letting me know that my son and his friends are rowdy and disrespectful.”

I groaned, “That was one time.”  
  


“I’m serious.”

“She’s serious.” Ruby parroted sardonically.

“Ruby, I swear to god—“

“Stop,” Mom warned, fixing her terrifying-mother-glare on me. “I’ll make your evening very boring.”  
I stifled an eye-roll as I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. Tugging the device from the back-pocket of me jeans, I squinted to see a call from Clyde. I hit accept and pressed the speaker against my ear, “Hey.”

“Craig, hi,” Clyde’s monotone voice replied from the other line. I loathed talking on the phone with him, because it made me realize that everyone who said our voices sound similar aren’t making it up. “Got bad news, buddy.”

“What?”

“I’m not gonna be able to make it to the movie tonight. Sorry! A couple buddies from football asked me to go to a party with them. A real life high school party!” Clyde exclaimed from the other line, sighing blissfully. “So, yeah, sorry, dude. But, next time, I will be sure to make it.”

“There’s not going to be a next time. It’s a one-night showing.” I reminded him through gritted teeth.

“Oh, right… Well, you can still go!”

“You have the tickets.”

Clyde hummed. “Right… Well, I dunno what to tell you, dude. I have to go to this party. No hard feelings, right?”

“Whatever. Have fun.” I scoffed, ending the call before I had to listen to another sentence of his bullshit.

“Well, Mom, it looks like my night’s going to be pretty boring without your help.”

Mom bustled into the living room after hearing my announcement. She frowned, “What happened?”

“Clyde is a douchebag. End of story.” I grumbled, kicking my shoes off and slamming my feet up on the coffee table.

Ruby pouted at me, “Awe, did your boyfriend stand you up?”

Just as I deflected her insult with my middle finger, Ruby yelped at the smack to the back of the head she received from Mom. She whipped her head around in angry shock, but before she could protest, Mom ordered, “Go to upstairs. Now.”

“That hurt—!”

“Now, Ruby.”

A satisfied smile curled my lips as the brat stomped all the way to her bedroom, and I accurately counted down her inexorable door-slam. My eyes focused on Mom when she rested on the couch cushion beside me, an empathetic expression crossing her face, “I’m sorry about your friends lately, baby. I didn’t think any of those boys would be like this.”

I lifted my eyebrows and turned my head towards the television. “It happens. This is high school, isn’t it?”

“I know that doesn’t make it any easier on you,” she sighed and patted my thigh. “I wish I could be your friend. I would go to the movies with you.”

I let out a short chuckle and glanced back over at her grin. “Thanks, but, it’s fine. Learning where I stand with people isn’t all bad.”

“No, but it’s disappointing. You’re allowed to have feelings, you know.” Mom assured me, standing to her feet and fucking up my hair as she always did.

“It’s called being hardcore, Mom.” I groaned, swiping my fringe back into place.

She snorted at my remark on her way back into the kitchen, “Ramen noodles?”

“Please.”

I grinned despite the turn this evening took. I did try to look at is as a positive thing; now I had no desire to cling to some half-assed friendship with Clyde. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back, and it was a bit relieving. It was just one less thing I had to worry about.

The splitting of my old friend group was becoming more real and less scary to me. It’s always unfortunate, but I didn’t need to feel so alone. Thomas promised me on an almost daily basis that he was still in my corner, and shockingly, I was starting to befriend Stan’s gang. I couldn’t believe I was slowly forgiving them from screwing me out of one-hundred dollars, but the past few lunch periods Thomas and I had some laughs and actual conversations with Kyle, Stan, Cartman, and Kenny, and they aren’t as unbearable as I would have guessed.

Perhaps they had finally learned a lesson from the approximately eight-thousand mistakes they had made, or they merely matured a bit, but they were genuinely cool guys. They still possessed resilient and distinctive personality traits that they had always been known for—Kyle was eternally angry about something, Kenny was quiet and perverted, Stan was done with everyone’s shit—but it they didn’t dominate the room or annoy me anymore. Besides Cartman, who remained a bigoted douchebag.

My world was definitely shifting around me at an uncomfortably fast pace, but I was beginning to learn not to be absolutely terrified of change. It’s extremely rare that friendships are life-long, or that people remain the same forever. I just had to accept that. Life sucks sometimes, but it’ll pass.

After I indulged in my sodium-loaded dinner, I headed to my room to sulk in solitude. Settling down on my mattress, I flipped my laptop open and clicked on a playlist from YouTube. I let out a relaxed sigh and lifted my phone to the browsing position.

As I began swiping down my news feed for the millionth time in my life, something stirred within me. Why should I stay inside and feel bored and alone while Clyde was out having the time of his life at some high school party? I was supposed to have a really fun night and not be pathetically antisocial for once. If that asshole, Clyde, deserved a great night, then I sure as hell did.

I tapped on iMessage and shot Thomas a text; _have you ever sneaked out before?_

Thankful that I had not yet changed out of my clothes, I reached over the side of my mattress and retrieved my Converse and laced them up as I awaited Thomas’ response. As predicted, he was reasonably confused; _No lol. Why?_

Sneaking out of the house definitely is not something I typically did, or remotely in the spectrum of things that I enjoy doing. I’m the laziest asshole in the world, but if Tweek was having a panic attack at three in the morning, I couldn’t exactly waltz out of the front door in order to reach him. But I needed this—something a stupid teenager does when they actually have a friend.

Grabbing my phone as I traced my steps over to the window on the other side of my room, I informed Thomas that if he had the chance to join me on this cliché rebellious journey he would find me at the park downtown. I worked the window open quietly and carefully stepped onto the lower portion of my roof. Holding my breath, I shimmied to where my feet were dangling before letting myself drop. I let out a huff of relief, although my mom’s voice in my head was disappointed.

As always, the weather was five degrees below freezing-my-dick-off, but the night sky was so clear I could easily name the various constellations that were strewn across the endless blanket of dark space. Astronomy was one of my passions ever since I was a little kid. I’ve watched every episode of Cosmos on Netflix and can shamelessly recite the masses of all the planets in our solar system after updating you on the latest NASA endeavors. The vast galaxies beyond our Earth that humans are incapable of fully comprehending have always fascinated me. While everything in our world seems so obvious and with purpose, we have absolutely no clue what’s out there—and it cannot be explained by mythology, or Christianity, or even science. Nobody knows. There’s something super cool about that fact for me.

The walk to the park was shorter when Thomas let me know that he would meet me there. I was scarcely worried about my parents catching me in the act of leaving the house after curfew bearing in mind the fact that they haven’t peaked their heads in my door to wish me good-night since I came out. I’m fairly certain they’re horrified by the possibility of walking in on me actively being gay.

South Park was remarkably quiet at night, strangely juxtaposed with the massively noisy and bustling town that it was when the sun was out. The only other times I could recall stepping up onto the playground after a decent hour was during neighborhood Fourth of July events. Its vacancy was a bit eerie, but I crossed the basketball court nonetheless and claimed a swing.

“That was an awful experience,” A familiar voice huffed as it appeared from behind me. My stomach churned unpleasantly at first, but I was easily consoled when Thomas slumped down into the swing adjacent to me. His soft, dirty blond hair was messy as if I had just dragged him from bed, and his teeth were quietly chattering. “Apparently fire escapes aren’t as easy to climb down as they are in movies.”

I chuckled at the remembrance that he resided in an apartment with his mother, and felt very privileged to not have to fight with a rusting metal ladder to leave my residence. “You totally didn’t have to come.”

Thomas shrugged, bending his knees to casually sway back and forth, “You didn’t catch me at an important time. _Shit!_ ” he blurted inadvertently and took a moment to redirect his train of thought. I had grown completely accustom to the effects of his Tourette’s at that point. Not that a random outburst of an obscenity was all that abnormal to begin with, “I was having a _Forensic Files_ marathon.”

“Fucking nerd.” I snorted at his taste in television program.

Thomas nudged my shoulder in protest before letting his swing drag him back to his previous position.

He inquired, “So, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I replied, almost on instinct. “Why?”

“Well, you texted me out of the blue telling me that you’re sneaking out when you were supposed to be seeing a movie with Clyde tonight. Did he bail?”

Casting my gaze down to the mulch beneath my feet, I let out a long sigh. I inwardly wished that Thomas didn’t pay attention to me when I gushed to him about things sometimes, even though it was really lovely of him. “Yeah, apparently the football team got him invited to the most important party in the world.”

Thomas shook his head, “What an asshole. You had been looking forward to that since the beginning of the school year.”

“I know.” I sighed. My disappointment with how the night ended up with Clyde made me appreciate Thomas’s presence even more.

“Craig?” Thomas’s perplexed tone yanked me from my admiration-induced trance.

I cleared my throat and peered away when I realized that I had been ogling a little too long, “Sorry, what?”

“I just said you deserve better.” He explained with a small chuckle.

“Oh,” I replied, my voice sounding inadvertently far off. Turning my attention back to Thomas’ face, I noticed that he was a combination of flustered and confused. Before I changed my mind, I verbalized my thoughts, “Well, that’s why I have you now.”

Thomas grunted in disagreement as the rosy color intensified against his lightly freckled cheeks, “I’m definitely not better than anyone.”

“Trust me, you are so much better than any of my so-called friends. For starters, you don’t blow me off, lie to me, or ignore me. But on top of that, you’re nice to me all the time and you know how to cheer me up. I don’t really know what I did to deserve you.”

“Please,” Thomas huffed animatedly and shifted his body to face me as if he was about to drop some knowledge on me. “You’re so great, Craig! You’re so funny and talented and smart and hot, and just all around really nice and great. I don’t understand why your friends have all decided to be so shitty to you. It’s the last thing you deserve, and I don’t even get how someone can look at your face and be mean to it.”

My hearted pounded after hearing his words. The urge to lean over and smash my mouth against him was the strongest that it had ever been in that moment. Considering the last couple of weeks especially, that was saying something. Thomas was so cheesy and hopelessly romantic, but God, it was exactly what I needed. I sighed happily, “Could you stop being so fucking perfect before I kiss you?”

I had caught both of us off guard with that sentence, but my flipping stomach was reassured when Thomas’s eyes brightened and his shy smile spread across his entire face. “ _Fuck_. I mean, uh, I can’t? Stop? Just kiss me.”

We shared a nervous chuckle before I grasped on of the metal chains supporting his swing and turned my body towards his. It occurred to me in that moment that this would be my first kiss. Finding a boy that likes boys that also likes you in a minuscule, redneck mountain town is not exactly a simple task. My nerves twisted a sizable knot in my stomach, the anticipation making it so much worse as we both slowly leaned in closer to one another. Thomas’s deep brown eyes reflected the starlight nicely, but they snapped shut when our noses bumped one another’s awkwardly. I took that as my cue to squeeze my own eyelids together, and I finally let myself breathe when I felt a pair of soft, warm lips pressed against mine.

The feeling of finally being kissed sent chills throughout my entire body. I instinctively raised my hand and cupped Thomas’s soft cheek and held him against me for a decent amount of blissful time. I had always assumed kissing would be an overrated, slimy, and useless activity, but now I see that I shouldn’t be so pretentious because it felt great.

As we mutually withdrew from the kiss, Thomas gasped, “ _Shit_. Shit, sorry—I didn’t mean to… talk… just then… Moment ruined.”

I had to laugh at his endearing awkwardness, gaping into his eyes as he stared up at me expectantly. I shrugged, “Let’s just make another one, then.”

The second kiss was much less daunting. We were both able to relax and timidly explore one another’s mouths, inexpertly gliding our lips along one another’s as a chilly Colorado breeze greeted us from behind. We easily ignored the temperature and fell into a blissful rhythm, my thumb gently stroking his cheek and his hand grasping my thighs just above my knee.

My already present adoration for Thomas surely intensified after that moment. He made me smile, laugh, and I felt my stomach flip-flop when we kissed or he looked directly into my eyes. I appreciated his attention and my relationship with him so much. All of this was why I was utterly disgusted with my brain for forcing me to think of Tweek in this intimate moment, wondering what it would have felt like to kiss him.

Vaguely panicked, I gradually pulled away from the amateur make-out session, merely to remind myself that this was Thomas, and that Thomas was awesome. I was relieved when I felt genuinely glad to see his cute smile and enlarged brown eyes staring back at me. A grin pulled at my lips.

Neither of us seemed to possess the ability to form a coherent sentence at that juncture, so we just laughed and fell into one another. We stayed like that for a good minute or so, until Thomas built up the courage to take my hand in his and lace our fingers together. When our eyes met, he simpered bashfully and said, “If I knew how great sneaking out would be I would have done it way sooner.”

I chuckled, “I don’t know—climbing down fire escapes is pretty dangerous, Thomas.”

“Totally worth it,” He assured me before planting another kiss on my lips.

We had spent another good two hours at the park in the middle of the night, holding hands and talking while periodically taking breaks to swap saliva and remind each other how cute we are. Thankfully, my mind recovered from the Tweek Tweak relapse it suffered, and I was able to appreciate the rest of the evening that ending up changing for the better.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: talk of suicide attempt/self harm

Miraculously, neither Thomas nor I were caught for sneaking out. If anything my mom was overly thrilled to learn that I finally had a boyfriend. She had always been more invested in my own potential relationships than I ever had, even before I came out to her.  
My dad was the complete opposite. We never really discussed anything more important than what I wanted for dinner that night or what movie we should watch next and not invite Ruby and Mom to enjoy with us. He was still trying to get used to the fact that he had a gay son, and whenever it was brought up he would get really uncomfortable and defensive. I can’t protest too much, because really, he was somewhat trying, but it sucked that he couldn’t accept it like Mom had. At least I knew where my introverted personality came from.  
I spent the remainder of the weekend hanging out with Thomas, which made me completely forget about the Clyde, Tweek and Token dilemma. It felt extremely nice to spend time with someone that liked me for me and I could just have fun with. There was no worrying about saying the wrong thing or bringing up a topic we disagreed on; we just relished being with one another and it was easy. Yet, the easier aspect of my social life did not last long.  
Monday morning after briefly conversing with Thomas and Kenny, I made my way to my locker to grab my materials for first period. I had this misleading feeling that it was going to be a good day, since my weekend was the best I had in a long time. I got my first boyfriend, Kenny and I began conversing through text, and Mom finally agreed to purchase the new Assassin’s Creed video game for me. Things took a different turn, however, almost as soon as I opened my locker. As if I was caught in some terrible time loop, a certain anxious blond approached my locker with tears in his big, green eyes.  
“Hey, um, Craig…” Tweek addressed me, harshly scratching at the back of his neck. My heart sunk to the bottom of my stomach to hear that familiar voice that I had gone the past week without and doing everything I could to get over. “Look, I know we’re on really bad terms right now, and I don’t deserve this at all… But something really, really bad just happened and I-I’m freaking out, man.”  
Deliberately closing my locker, I let out a long breath when I returned his gaze. He looked absolutely miserable. The circles under his eye had become even darker, appearing as though he had just rubbed off his mascara. His shoulders were slumped and his chest was visibly rising and falling. Despite my better judgement, I slammed my locker shut and responded, “Then why don’t you tell your boyfriend?”  
Tweek flinched at the mention of Calum, stowing his gaze to the ground and swallowing, “I can’t. He tried to kill himself.”  
My heart fell along with my jaw, a gasp escaping my lips along with the word, “Oh, shit… Is he okay?”  
The question caused a new wave of tears to shake Tweek’s entirety. He covered his flushed face in his hands and bit down on his quivering lip. Reluctantly, I placed a tentative hand against his shoulder, “Hey, dude, calm down, it’s going to be okay. Just breathe.”  
“I can’t, Craig! It’s all my fault! Now he’s stuck in that goddamn mental hospital until next week… I can’t believe I let this happen!” Tweek sobbed, but even his panicked tone was drowned out by the loud bell that rang through the school and indicated that we had five minutes to get to first period. Glancing between the binder that I tucked under my arm and Tweek, I knew that I had to choose between doing the smart thing for myself and just heading to class, or being there for someone that I felt totally betrayed by as they fell apart.  
“Goddamn it,” I grumbled to myself when I made my decision. I addressed Tweek, doing my best to put my grudge against him behind my empathy for his situation. “Come on, let’s go to the bathroom. You can’t go to class like this.”  
I again ignored the ogling of our peers as I led Tweek down the hall and into the restroom, who continued to whimper dejectedly. Even though he absolutely crushed me not even a full week ago, I couldn’t stand to see him in such a broken state. Every delicate feature of his face was laced with grief as he struggled to simply breathe. I knew Calum would do this to him. I wished Tweek would have just heeded my warning.  
“You’re okay,” I assured him in a soothing tone and Tweek used his baggy t-shirt to catch the streams of tears that cascaded down his cheeks. This was horrible déjà vu and I detested the way he still managed to make my heart wretch. “Just take deep breaths and tell me what happened.”  
Tweek struggled to compose himself enough to testify, “S-Since my parents grounded me, Calum’s depression had been getting a lot worse… He started, uh, hurting himself again and always talking how he hated himself and my parents hated him and worthless and he needed me and I wasn’t there, I swear, Craig, I tried everything to change his mind! I finally got my phone back a couple days ago, I stayed up with him so late every night since trying to talk him down, and-and I tell him all the time how much I love him, but it just wasn’t enough… And when I woke up this morning, his mom had texted me telling me that he swallowed all his medication and he’s going to be staying in a psych ward up in Denver.”  
I stashed my I-told-you-so comments and frowned, “Tweek… I’m really sorry,”  
Tweek looked up and away, sniffling and attempting to stop his lip from trembling, “It’s all my fault, Craig. I’ve been so stupid and useless.”  
Creasing my eyebrows together, I protested, “Don’t do that to yourself, Tweek. You’re not responsible for his decisions.”  
“I should’ve been there for him last night! I should’ve gone to his house and stopped him, and just… and just been better. God, this is such a mess.” Tweek cried out as the tears came rushing back to his eyes.  
Although I by no means had forgiven Tweek for the shit he pulled with me, I realized in that moment that it didn’t matter. Watching him sob in agony because he believed he was the reason his partner had tried to end his own life, I knew that even if he tried to stab me or something bizarrely severe like that, I would never not care about him and have the burning desire to make sure he was okay. I could attempt to ignore it and repress it as much as I wanted, but it wouldn’t go away or alter or weaken. I was trapped in an illogical cesspool of unjustified feelings and strong-willed emotions that refused to be silent and allow me to live my life, which is basically the definition of love.  
Pushing my epiphany aside, I took a stride towards Tweek and offered him a hug. My senses heightened when he fitted his face into the crook of my neck, breathing erratically as he clung to me. “Listen to me, Tweek. This is not your fault. You did everything you could. Don’t blame yourself for this.”  
Tweek didn’t reply, possibly because he couldn’t. Instead he clutched me tightly and continued to let out his shaking and crying. I stood there with him for what felt like hours, hugging him and pushing my fingers through his hair. So many times in my life had I stopped everything just to wrap my arms around this boy until he was sufficiently calmed, but I never resented it. Just knowing that he was safe for the time being was worth any inconvenience.  
“Craig, I’m so sorry,” Tweek spoke softly after a bought of silence. He had composed himself enough to draw back and look at my face, “I’m just so fucking sorry for this school year. I’ve been such a jerk, and so caught up in everything, and I just—I’m a fucking disaster, and I’m so sorry,”  
“Hey, don’t worry about all that right now,” I told him calmly. “Don’t stress yourself out even more, okay? Just take it easy.”  
Tweek’s voice sounded so painfully broken when he whispered, “I can’t do this anymore, Craig… I counted, and I-I had seventeen anxiety attacks this past week. I lost you, and I lost Clyde and Token, and I’m losing Calum, and every single time it’s my fault—“  
“Tweek,” I interrupted his panicked rant. “Calum is not your fault. Do not blame yourself.”  
The emotional blond sighed deeply, eyes glossy and full of sincerity, “It is my fault that I lost you. I fucked everything up so bad.”  
I smiled sadly. While I agreed that it was his fault, it wouldn’t have been very reassuring for me to confirm what his terrifying mind had already convinced him. I shrugged, “All you have to do to fix it is talk to me. We are supposed to be GBF’s, aren’t we?”  
“Stop,” Tweek pushed out a laugh at inside joke that had come from an evening spent watching a cheesy Netflix film about two gay boys that were best friends and came out of the closet in various ways. His giggling grew louder as I joined him, and he wiped the tears from his face with his hands. “Goddamn it. I’m just… I don’t even know. Everything’s changing.”  
“I know… way too fast,” I agreed, glad that I wasn’t the only one negatively affected by these rapid changes.  
“Craig… I really am sorry. I’m sorry for lying to you, and then not talking to you. I just… I haven’t known what to do and everything’s so blurry and stressful. But I do know that everything is a hell of a lot easier when you’re in my life.” Tweek explained to me, his expression returning to its frightfully serious state.  
Taking a moment to search his face, I believed him, and then I began to feel sad for my friend. There was so much going on that I hadn’t considered just because he lied to me. While that was shitty, I wouldn’t let it ruin the opportunity to mend our friendship. For the first time, and despite the residual heart-fluttering feelings he gave me, I was alright with it simply being a friendship.  
I clapped my hand against his shoulder and granted him a half-smile. “Then it looks like you’re stuck with me again.”  
Instead of making a snarky joke as he usually did, Tweek smiled brightly. I could physically feel the relief that washed over him as he leaned in and forced me into another tight hug. Stupid heart thumping, I patted his back and breathed in his familiar scent. “Thank you, Craig. I don’t deserve how great of a friend you are.”  
“I know, I’m perfect,” I retorted.  
After waiting a few more minutes for Tweek’s eyes to stop looking as though he had just cried them out, we headed back to first period. We fed the listless Mr. Garrison a half-truth about how Tweek was having a severe panic attack and I was seeing him through it. Thankfully we did not get reprimanded for being a half-hour late to class, but the fact that we were seen together again turned almost every head in the classroom. Tweek and I did our best to ignore it and headed to our seats.  
While I was still sort of upset about the whole Calum incident and all the frustration it caused, I was relieved to be civil with Tweek again. Whether or not he was a straight up douchebag or a confused ball of anxiety with too many things going on at once, he was my best friend for as long as I had a memory. It’s really hard to throw that all away over a bad week.  
_  
Lunch that day was a bit awkward as Tweek sat with Thomas, Stan’s gang, and me instead of huddle in a corner with Calum. Much to my appreciation, my new group of acquaintances and boyfriend were nice to him the few times he spoke up, but I could tell everyone was confused by the situation for various reasons. Later that night, I received a phone call from Kenny that forced me to explain what had changed.  
I sighed into my phone’s speaker, “Tweek’s going through a lot of bullshit right now. I would have felt guilty if I wasn’t there for him.”  
“Ah. Boyfriend bullshit?” Kenny guessed from the other line. His uniquely pitched voice sounded about an octave lower due to the ghastly quality of his ancient Blackberry.  
“Yeah… Calum tried to kill himself.” I informed him. I would have been leerier about relaying that kind of private information to someone, but Kenny was the last person in the world that I would have expected to gossip; if not for moral reasons, for the simple fact that he didn’t care enough to perpetuate a rumor about someone’s life that did not concern his own remotely. He was like me in that aspect.  
“Holy shit, dude,” he huffed in shock. “Key word ‘tried’, right?”  
“Yeah, he’s alive and okay. He’ll be in a psych ward for the rest of the week, though.”  
“Damn. I really wish I had more sympathy for the kid.” Kenny admitted with a seditious chuckle.  
“Dude, same,” I sighed at the relief of being understood. “I mean, I guess I don’t want him to die, and I want him to get help... But I really, really hate him. So much.”  
“He’s a piece of shit. You got every right. Plus, he took your boy.”  
“My boy?” I feigned confusion, while truly becoming nervous at the accusation.  
“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Your boy. Your bestie, your pal, your completely platonic bro,”  
“We are completely platonic.” I clarified, which, of course only made Kenny laugh.  
“Sure, Tucker. Anywho, are you busy after school tomorrow?”  
“I have photography club until three.”  
“And after that?” Kenny tried again.  
“Nothing.”  
“Sweet. Wanna come hang out with Kyle, Stan, and me? I waited for a day that Eric won’t be there to invite you, so don’t turn it down.”  
I smirked, “How very thoughtful of you. But yeah, that sounds okay.”  
“Cool. We’ll all be at Stan’s, so just come over when you can.” Kenny instructed. We agreed that I would do so and before the conversation came to an end, he said to me: “Oh, by the way, dude, what you’re doing for Tweek is really awesome and nice and all that shit. But, if it gets to be too much for you, just drop it. It’s all well and good to be there for a friend, but don’t let him be your Calum, y’know?”  
I perked my head to the side, caught off guard by Kenny’s random spout of actual meaningful advice. “Are you sure I’m not talking to Kyle right now? You just said something intelligent and haven’t mentioned boobs once.”  
“Ha-ha,” Kenny droned sardonically. “Maybe I just save all my smart talk for a few people and make everyone else think I’m a mute redneck so they don’t expect anything from me.”  
“That would make you the biggest genius of all.” I concluded with a snort.  
“Exactly. Don’t tell anyone my secret, Tucker.”  
With that, we disconnected the call. I let my phone fall against my mattress and my eyes train back on my infuriating homework. If you had told me not even two months ago that I would be voluntarily spending time with any member of Stan’s gang, I would have flipped you off. Yet, there I was with plans to hang out with them the following day. Sophomore year is a roller coaster.


	11. Chapter 11

Due to the loyalties that had been imbedded into my mind for the last eleven years of my life, as I ambled down the snowy sidewalk and towards the Marsh residence I felt somewhat guilty. If Clyde and I had still been close, he would have considered fraternizing with his unrequited archrival as a betrayal. Those thoughts slipped in and out of my mind the entirety of my journey, but each time I pushed them away with the fact that he hasn’t even spoken to me since he bailed on me for a party.  
I had been admittedly anxious about hanging with Kenny, Stan, and Kyle that day. Although I was considerably comfortable with them at school, the location played a role in that fact. The cafeteria was neutral domain and the bustling hallways were the great equalizer. But this was Stan’s—and essentially Kyle and Kenny’s—territory. There was an undeniable pressure to that.   
Nonetheless, I made it to the house close to three-thirty and tapped my knuckles against the door. I hadn’t set foot onto the porch or inside the building for what felt like a life-time, and I had very vague memories of what the interior looked like. The outside, however, I could have picked out in my sleep. Grand, deeply brown wooden door built into the dark green walls. The window seals seemed to permanently hold piles of snow and shared its material with the front door. It was a nice, decently sized home, but it wasn’t anything exceptional. The only factor that differentiated any of the houses in our neighborhood was color.   
Soon enough my beckoning was answered by Kyle. I was only a little surprised that he opened the door and not the actual person that lived there considering they had always treated each other’s houses as they were permanent residents as well. He grinned, “Hey, dude! Come on in.” As I stepped across the threshold, I was deafened when Kyle reeled his head back and shouted, “Craig’s here!”   
“Jesus Christ, you have lungs.” I commented, covering my ears as he pushed the front door shut.   
Kyle chuckled, shrugged, “My bad,”   
Moments later, Stan and Kenny came pounding down the steps, running into each other as if it were a race. When they made it to the bottom, Kenny sent me a grin, “Glad this tall glass of water could make it today.”   
“Dude, lame,” Stan complained at Kenny’s flirtation.   
The blond smirked presumptuously and threw an arm around Stan’s waist. They had a somewhat comical height difference due to Kenny being about my height and Stan being on the short side. Kenny accused in a mockingly sultry voice, “You jealous, baby?”   
Laughing, Stan shoved Kenny’s arm away and quickly headed into the kitchen. “What do you all want to drink?”   
In unison, Kyle and Kenny announced, “Coke!”   
Saying nothing, I sat down in the loveseat adjacent to Kenny when he gestured for me to stop standing around awkwardly. I sunk into the pleather and watched Kenny kick his feet up on the table and turn on the television. Soon, Stan returned with the other boy’s cans of soda and told Kyle, “Check your sugar before you drink that.”   
Kyle rolled his eyes at the reminder, “I was going to, mother.”   
“You want anything, Craig?” Stan inquired as Kyle grabbed a miniature book-back and pulled out an alcohol swap and lancing device.   
“I’m good.” I assured him. He accepted my answer and pounced over the back on the couch with somewhat cation with him damaged arm. While he had gotten his cast off a week before this event, he was forced to keep it protected by Ace wrap and a sling. He leaned his head back against the arm of the chair and propped his legs over Kyle’s lap as he continued to measure his blood glucose.   
I was a bit intimidated by their astoundingly routine behavior. These guys had spent every single day with each other and even their smallest actions were mechanically engineered to correspond with one another. I was an outsider—a disruption of their time-constructed balance. I began to feel very out of place and saddened by the fact that my friend group had not stayed as cohesive as theirs.  
“Goddamn it, Kenny, we’re not watching How to Train Your Dragon again!” Kyle protested after the blond had selected the cartoon on Netflix.   
Genuinely offended, Kenny scrunched his eyebrows together and glared over at him, “Why the fuck not? It’s awesome.”   
“Dude, why is it you only watch either porn or movies designed for children? You need to find the in between.” Stan pointed out with an amused scoff.   
Kenny shrugged, “I’m a simple man.”   
“Put on something age appropriate, for the love of God,” Kyle sighed in an utterly exasperated tone.   
“Oh, what, like Friends?” Kenny retorted in an accusing tone as he began to search for something else to watch.   
“What do you have against Friends, McCormick?” I weighed in, feeling a bit defensive of one of my favorite shows.   
Kenny snapped his head in my direction, “You like Friends?”   
“Here we go.” Stan sighed, propping his chin up on his fist.   
“See! I’m not the only one who watches that show!” Kyle exclaimed, gesturing to me.   
Kenny’s expression became increasingly disgusted, “It’s just a fictional version of a lame reality show!”   
“Oh, and reality shows aren’t scripted down to the gestures?!” Kyle shot back.   
I nodded, “Yeah, there’s no way anyone actually behaves in the way that half the women on The Bachelor do. Not that I’m the leading expert on women,”  
Kenny let out a long sigh through his nose. “Fine. But, all I have to say is… They were on a break.”   
“Fuck you,” Kyle seethed immediately, “Don’t even get me fucking started.”   
After a brief verbal altercation concerning the semantics of Ross and Rachel’s relationship, we all decided instead to play a video game. Stan pushed himself off the couch and stepped over the entertainment center, pulling the case ajar with his good arm. “Oh, yeah, I only have the Wii down here.”   
Kyle groaned, but Kenny stood abruptly and rushed to Stan’s side. “Dude, can we please play Wii Sports?!” he requested with far too much enthusiasm as he removed the case from the cabinet.   
Stan pinned him with an incredulous stare, “Why the fuck do you want to play Wii Sports?”   
“Because I used to destroy you guys in baseball and I want to see if those skills are still there,” Kenny extrapolated, scanning the back of the DVD’s case. “My right arm is a lot stronger now.”   
Kyle rolled his eyes, “I will play Wii Sports if you stop being disgusting.”   
“That’s a primary aspect of his personality, though.” I sardonically defended Kenny.   
Chuckling, Stan stood and attempted to push the wooden coffee table from the center of the diagonal patterned carpet with his functional arm and his left knee. Kyle and I simultaneously rose and aided him as Kenny set up the system. He gasped with a sudden idea, “Should we make Craig a Mii?”   
I pinched my eyebrows together, glancing between Kyle and Stan. After years of assuming Kenny was nothing more than a quiet kid with a side of perversion, I never expected him to be as simply fun as he was. Despite his lack of social acuity, he was hilarious when he was comfortable.   
Stan groaned, “That takes, like, ten minutes.”   
“It’s an important initiation, Stanley.” Kenny urged him, already creating a new Mii called ‘Tucker’. Once that was finished, the tournaments commenced.   
At first, it was all fun and games, but quickly escalated. Once Stan beat Kyle in bowling, Kyle had to redeem himself by beating me at golf. When I beat Kenny in boxing, there was the impending baseball battle. Even I could sense the bad blood between Kyle and Stan with this particular game.  
“Should’ve worn your brown pants, Broflovski,” Stan taunted, hopping in place and wiggling the fingers of his left hand.   
Kyle snarled, “Says the cripple.”   
“This is gonna be entertaining.” Kenny told me with an enthusiastic smirk as we gave them a sufficient amount of room for the incessant swinging of their pixilated bats.   
As I watched the pair wave their arms furiously in the air, slipping every once in a while and generally being entirely overdramatic, they became a lot less intimidating. While they were definitely more mature and did not come up with ridiculous schemes to make money that got them shipped off to other countries or in trouble with the government, they still didn’t taken themselves too seriously and they had fun. They were capable of forgetting about relationships and petty high school drama and just being friends with each other. While I had looked down on them in the past, I had a newfound respect for them.   
“You look like Butters trying to swim!” Kyle exclaimed with laughed as swung with his worn-out left arm.   
Stan shot him a death glare before focusing on the screen. “Fucking snap your ulna and we can talk,”   
Stan took in a long breath, squinting and taking his turn again. When he consecutively missed the ball, however, he became frustrated, and his motions more spastic. Unfortunately he did so as Kyle reached for his half-drunk Coke resting on a coaster behind them. As Stan cocked his hand back, it collided with the side of Kyle’s face, making a rather unpleasant sound and a force that sent the accosted redhead tumbling sideways against the table.   
As soon as Kenny and I witnessed the catastrophe we burst into laughter. It was that knees weak, soul-cleansing, tear-jerking laughter where the two of us collapsed against one another and howled as Stan rushed worriedly to Kyle’s side like a good friend. “Holy shit, Ky, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?!” I barely heard him say over the sound of my own cackling.   
“Fuck, I’m fine,” Kyle assured him sassily, stowing his angry gaze back to Kenny and me. Our giggling began to weaken, as Kyle was genuinely terrifying when angry or provoked and Kenny slowly side-stepped away. But, we realized we had nothing to worry about when his face contorted into a smile and he began dying laughing at the situation himself.  
We decided that that was probably enough excitement in the Wii universe for one night, and to watch How to Train Your Dragon instead. Kyle was reluctant at first, but seemingly thankful to have skidded by with only a faint red mark on his cheek after being slammed in the face by Stan’s non-dominant hand.   
“Hey, Ky, did you finish that math homework?” Kenny asked at some point, grinning sheepishly.   
Kyle narrowed his eyes at the blond, “Yes, but you may not copy my answers again, Ken. This is, like, the eighth time this month you’ve asked!”   
Kenny sniffed, “You are so stingy with your genius abilities. They should be a gift to us all, like Spider-Man’s powers!”   
“I’m not a genius, and you’re perfectly capable of getting the homework done yourself. You’re just as smart as I am, you’re just lazier.” Kyle called him out. I wondered if he ever got tired of lecturing people on a daily basis, but it didn’t seem like his passion for it had ever wavered.   
“Even when I try I have no idea what is going on in that class.” I spoke up with a grimace, war flash-backs of hours spent stressing over my worksheets and never getting the right answer bombarding my mind.   
Kyle quirked his head at me, “Really? I could help you out if you want.”   
“What!” Kenny threw his arms up in indignation. “Maybe Cartman was right about the Jews being snakes after all.”   
“Dude, weak,” Stan snorted.   
Kyle rolled his eyes and stood, “There’s a difference between not understanding what’s going on and just not wanting to put in the effort to get it done.”   
Kenny whimpered mockingly, “Whatever, Kyle. Take your beautiful brain and just go.”   
My eyes followed Kyle as he ambled around the couch to retrieve his over the shoulder book-back with confusion written into my features. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to follow him until he gestured for me to do so. While I found his eagerness to aid me with my homework slightly odd, I was desperate enough to not question it. I clutched my book-bag in my hands and shadowed him into the kitchen.   
As he set his bag down on the rectangular dining table he let out a sigh and peered up at me, “I would literally rather do math homework than sit through that fucking movie again.”   
The picture became much clearer after that statement. I smirked and joined him, pulling up a chair and retrieving that night’s homework. Simply feeling the thin sheet of paper between my fingers and reading the bold print across the top of the page caused a sense of defeat to go through me. I pushed it aside and set the blank sheet beside Kyle’s, which was covered in numbers, equations, and impeccable hand-writing. It bared a shocking resemblance to an official answer key and was more than likely equally accurate.   
“Alright, so, what are you not understanding?” Kyle asked me as he drew an ink pen from his pencil pouch.   
Scanning my gaze along the paper, I hummed to myself and gestured to the entire page, “Right about here.”   
Kyle chuckled dryly and shifted in the chair, as if preparing for a river of information to eloquently flow from his lips. He carefully explained step by step how to factor a binomial in a way that I actually understood. While the process remained utterly pointless and thus exceedingly infuriating, I had a better idea of how to actually do the work as opposed to floundering miserably.   
“Thanks so much, dude,” I told him after I had accurately completed half of the work. “You are a genius. Do you also tutor people in making life decisions?”  
Kyle snorted, “Definitely not. And I’m seriously not a genius, I just pay attention. That’s all you did, and now you understand how to do it, too.”   
“Yeah, but all of this is so second nature for you. I wish they had a gifted program for sophomores. You belong there. And so does Tweek.” I revealed.   
A knowing smile played against Kyle’s lips, and I wasn’t quite sure what it meant. “Tweek, huh?”   
“Yeah,” I confirmed, a bit wary of his expression. “He’s actually really smart and talented. He’s gotten an A-plus in English and history almost every single quarter since forever.”   
“You like him, don’t you?” Kyle wondered innocently enough, but the simple question caused a lump to form in my throat and my heart to drop to the base of my stomach.   
I was blind-sided by this accusation at first, and I didn’t quite recover quickly enough. The truth being evident at that point, I stowed my gaze away from Kyle and busied myself with packing away my paper and pencils. “I’m dating Thomas.”   
“Yeah, for what, four days now? You’ve liked Tweek since, like, the third grade, Craig, I’ve noticed. Especially recently,” Kyle continued to reveal the information that he was privy to due to his apparent deductions.   
Panicky and uncomfortable, I bit my lip, “You don’t think he knows, do you?”   
Kyle shook his head with assent, “No, he’s completely oblivious. He wouldn’t be if you told him, though…”   
I brushed off his hint immediately, “Yeah, okay. I will as soon as you marry Cartman.”   
“Why does everyone keep saying that to me?!” Kyle exclaimed before returning to the original topic, “Seriously, though, man, I think Tweek has feelings for you, too. You guys are so close and sweet with each other.”   
“No, he definitely does not like me. He likes Calum for some reason.” I puffed out a forlorn sigh, shaking my head. “Besides, I have Thomas now, and I really like him.”   
Kyle shrugged his shoulders and patted me on the back before standing to his feet, “I guess I’m not really the one who should be giving you advice on this, considering my one relationship in the third grade. But you said yourself I’m a genius, so…”  
With that, Kyle strode back into the living room, leaving me with a lot to on my mind.


	12. Chapter 12

Being in Tweek’s presence ever since what happened was utterly disheartening. He tried so hard to keep his head up but he was always one to inadvertently wear his heart plainly on his sleeve, and he was absolutely depressed. The tendency of his to constantly tremor and fidget increased tenfold, the sleep deprivation was evident in his eyes and the way he carried himself. He clung to his phone obsessively, waiting for Calum’s single daily phone-call from the psych ward. Despite the fact that he was balls deep in an emotionally manipulative relationship, he did genuinely care for and love Calum, and that fact wouldn’t change. At first it was easy to be apathetic, but just seeing Tweek so broken forced me to lend somewhat support.  
Even Thomas could tell Tweek was struggling, and he had only had a few real conversations with him. On Wednesday, it had been the third time Tweek joined my lunch table. The ambiance had become far more melancholy due to his general disposition, which sort of sucked considering lunch was our one time to let loose and make dirty jokes without getting in trouble. None of us were willing to tell Tweek to lighten up or leave, however. Everyone knew what he was going through, and the severity of it, including Cartman (to a certain extent).   
As Tweek stood and informed me that he was going to the restroom through a murmur, Thomas and I exchanged glances. He sighed, “Poor Tweek.”   
“I know. I can’t stand it.” I agreed, my eyes following the back of his blond head out of the cafeteria.   
“I don’t get what the big fucking deal is,” Cartman announced, “It’s not like he actually died. He’s just in the center for suicidal teens for a few days.”   
Kyle scoffed, horrified by his neighbor’s comment, “His boyfriend tried to kill himself, you fuck! How would you feel if that was someone you cared about?”   
“Glad that they didn’t succeed?” Cartman retorted, matter-of-fact. “Plus how the hell do you fail at something like that? Like, it’s not that hard to kill yourself. You take all the pills you can swallow and you slit your veins open for good measure.”   
“Okay, if you don’t shut up right now, I’m gonna vomit on you.” Stan warned.   
“Seems like you’ve put a lot of thought into killing yourself,” I said to Cartman with a mockingly sweet smile.   
Veering the conversation back onto a less horrible track, Thomas suggested, “Is there anything we could do to take his mind off of it at least? Maybe get take him to see a film or something?”   
“My sixteenth birthday party is this Saturday night,” Stan announced with a shrug. “Pretty much our whole class is invited but I didn’t know if he’d wanna come.”   
“I can ask him.” I replied, although I was already planning on attending Stan’s party.   
Stan was only the third person in our graduating class to turn sixteen, behind Token and Cartman. I don’t know how other towns treat a kid’s sweet sixteenth, but in South Park, it’s really nothing special. If anything, there’s a party (besides Cartman, who rented out a reception hall and threw a fucking concert—but he went overboard every year). Even though Token had virtually unlimited funds, he chose to invite Clyde, Tweek, Jimmy, and myself over for a Cards Against Humanity tournament. I won.  
“It’s gonna be lit.” Cartman predicted with a presumptuous smile, and Stan instantly read his thought process.   
“No, it won’t,” he retorted in a warning tone, narrowing his gaze at the druggie. “I swear to god, Cartman, if you bring anything but ice to my party, I will take a turn murdering you after Kyle and my mom are done.”   
“Why? If we don’t do it all, I’ll just donate it to Kenny’s family!” Cartman defended.  
Kyle groaned, “You are a horrible fucking wonton.”   
“You’re stupid, and so are pills and weed and alcohol. Don’t bring it to my party.” Stan ordered with finality.   
Kenny peered up from and raised an eyebrow at Cartman, “By the way, my parents do meth and heroin, not pot and pills, so… I bet you feel pretty dumb now.”  
Cartman chuckled, accepting defeat with Kenny’s self-depreciating joke. I also accepted that he would more than likely veto Stan’s request for a straight-edge party and make illicit substances available to himself and whoever else desired—for money, of course. That was just how Cartman was.   
“Are you coming?” I asked Thomas as I averted my attention from another one of Kyle’s moral speeches about the dangers of drugs and alcohol. Cartman was also tuning him out.   
Thomas frowned, “I can’t. My mom’s making me fly up to Ohio to see my grandparents for the weekend with her.”  
I pouted my lip and took his hand in mine, “Can’t you tell them to fuck off?”   
Chuckling, Thomas intertwined our fingers and gave my hand an affectionate squeeze, “I would, but I haven’t seen them in a year. And I would be grounded until graduation if I told my grandparents to ‘fuck off’.”   
I groaned and rested my head on his shoulder, flicking my eyes over to Kenny when he offered, “It’s okay, Thomas, I’ll take him off your hands for the weekend. I’m an incredible two-night-stand.”   
Thomas and I rolled our eyes in unison at Kenny’s incessant flirting (although, he directed it towards everyone, including Clyde, despite the common knowledge of how downright disturbed straight, white boys get when they are merely approached by a homosexual).   
As time went on and the lunch period came to an end again, I was vexed to not see Tweek return to the table. I frowned at the very likely possibility that he locked himself in a stall and had an anxiety attack, or simply cried. Either way, my heart fell. I still hated Calum with every crevice of my scrawny body, but for my friend’s sake and for the sake of mental health, I truly hoped that he would be okay and he would stop doing things like this to himself.   
_ 

The night of Stan’s birthday party was Tweek’s worst day. Calum had called him the day before ranting about how he couldn’t take it anymore, he couldn’t stand being at the mental hospital, and that he felt even worse than when he was first sent there. Needless to say, this served up yet another helping of anxiety right on top of everything else Tweek had on his plate. He came over to my house before we went to Stan’s to unload it all.   
“I just don’t know what I’m going to do, Craig,” Tweek gushed, pacing back and forth as I reclined on my mattress, “He’s so depressed, I—I hate it. I can’t stand him being there. I wish I could just switch places with him.”   
I shook my head, “Tweekers, he doesn’t have it any worse than you do, he just took it farther than you. Your anxiety has gotten so much worse, man. You need to take care of yourself, too.”   
“I know, but his depression is so bad, and he says that me having anxiety doesn’t help him at all ‘cause I just worry.” Tweek revealed with a sigh.   
“What the hell?” I scoffed. I couldn’t believe that Tweek didn’t see the problem with that, either. “You can’t help that. Don’t let him make you feel bad about that.”   
Tweek shrugged, “Well, it’s just hard for him when I always have to ask if he’s okay and if I’m annoying him or if he’s upset at me or what not. I don’t know, I’m trying to do better, I just… I don’t know. I know he’s been down because of what happened with my parents, too. And he hasn’t even called today! It’s just… It’s too much pressure!”   
With a huff, I stood to my feet and stepped over to where Tweek was dragging his feet back and forth across my carpet. I placed my hands gingerly on his shoulders and forced myself to look into his perfect, bag-ridden eyes. I took pride in how well I stayed on track, “Dude, I don’t know how many times I’ve got to tell you; it is not your fault. If you don’t listen to me about anything else, just please don’t blame yourself. There’s nothing you could have done to stop him.”   
Tweek took a few moments simply to stare back up at me before flicking his eyes to the ground. His voice was still strained over his unending struggle to stay calm, “I’ll try… I just—honestly—he makes me feel like it is…”   
He made it seem like relaying this information was such a confidential matter. It was so disgusting to me, yet, I was not remotely surprised that Calum had done those things. It’s as if everything he did was to make Tweek feel more and more indebted to him.   
Now, I am definitely not saying that all people who commit suicide or self-harm do so purely for ulterior motives. I am well aware of the dangers of unchecked mental illness and the importance of mental health. However, it’s also clear to me that there are fucked up people in this world who do manipulate those who care about them with threats of self-harm and suicide, and Calum was absolutely one of them. This doesn’t negate the fact that he needed serious help, but it is entirely wrong to control Tweek’s easily influenced feelings the way he knew he did.   
I frowned and cupped his cheek in my hand, “That’s not right, Tweekers. Call him out on it and keep your chin up.”   
A small smile made its way to Tweek’s heart-shaped lips when I poked his cheek. He threw a playful, slow punch at my cheek in retaliation, “I have to reach so much farther to get to your face now. Stop growing!”   
“Tell me how and I will.” I grumbled.   
Tweek chuckled weakly and gazed up at me with that look that made me question my sexuality in the first place. “Thanks, Craig.”   
I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded at him, swiftly but casually turning away from him and saying, “Of course. You ready to go?”   
“Yeah.”   
With that, we both headed out of my bedroom, and then out of my house. My mom wished us a good time and warned us to be responsible on the way out, an overly enthusiastic grin plastered to her face. When I told her Tweek and I had made up she was very pleased. He was like a second son to her, and would probably always be her favorite of my friends.   
It seemed that Stan wasn’t completely thrilled about his party. While he enjoyed receiving positive attention for things at school such as football, or making an anti-bullying video at the age of nine, he wasn’t really into celebrating birthdays. I suppose Cartman made up for all us in that respect. He didn’t give us the option to not care about his birthday.   
We had arrived at the gathering in approximately no time at all since the Marshes resided just down the road. We were greeted by Kenny, who was draining an entire two-letter of Dr. Pepper on his own. The only decoration in the living room that indicated there was a party was a large banner hanging over the television that read ‘Happy Sweet Sixteen, Stan!’ in Kyle’s neat hand-writing. There was a plethora of snacks and drinks on the coffee table and various members of our graduating class chatting among themselves.  
Sure enough, Clyde arrived in his varsity jacket and was attempting to obtain Bebe’s attention as she gossiped with a small congregation of popular kids. Token was on the opposite side of the room with Nichole and the other members of sophomore student council. Through the doorway into the kitchen, I could see that Kyle, Stan, Cartman, and Butters were laughing about something together. It was so predictable and quite hilarious how every single clique stuck with one another even when someone’s birthday was being celebrated. The only reason we truly ever held big parties like this was to appease our parent’s weird obsession with their friends’ kids all being friends.  
“Token and Clyde are avoiding eye-contact with me,” Tweek whispered to me, a hint of agitation in his voice. “Go figure.”   
I snorted and shook my head, leading him back towards the kitchen where my new friends resided, ignoring my old ones as they did to Tweek and me. Stan grinned when he saw me, and I handed him an envelope, “Happy Birthday, cripple.”   
“Gee, thanks,” he chuckled, tearing into the light blue paper and retrieving the ironically cheesy card with a kitten on it and the twenty-dollar gift card to Game Stop. “You didn’t have to do this, dude!”   
I shrugged, “It’s from Tweek, too.”   
Stan nodded and grinned at us. “Thanks. And thanks for not going completely fucking overboard like someone did.”   
Kyle shrunk away from Stan’s accursing glare and tossed his hands up in mock submission, “To be fair, I go overboard every year.”   
“I offered you a blow job but you had to be all straight about it.” Kenny snarled as he reentered the conversation and rested his arm on Butters’s shoulder.   
Butters was another kid that I didn’t hate. If nothing else, he was really sweet to everyone. He was easily the smallest guy in or grade, even littler than a lot of the girls. He had let his wavy, bleach blond hair grow out and his cheeks were eternally rosy. He also had a thing for wearing a lot of pastel color, making him seem even more effeminate, which clearly didn’t appease the tastes of the conservative half of South Park. It sucked, but he brushed off the bullying with grace, and with the knowledge anyone who spoke against him brought out the Mysterion in Kenny.   
Butters looked over at Tweek, who was clinging to me a little due to the amount of people in one place, and he smiled, “Hey, Tweek! How’re you feelin’?”   
Tweek plastered a fake grin across his face and replied, “I’m okay.”   
“B-R-B, ladies,” Cartman announced randomly as he hopped down from his seat on the counter with his phone in his face.   
Kyle followed him with his infamous, matronly glare, “Where are you going?”   
“Just gotta get something from my house.” Cartman barely finished his sentence on his way out of the room.   
Stan and Kyle exchanged aggravated expressions as I verbalized their grievances, “Is he bringing alcohol or something?”   
“If he does I’ll twist his nut sack.” Kyle threatened through gritted teeth.   
“Kinky.” Kenny smirked.   
“I didn’t know Eric still drank!” Butters frowned. “He told me he’d stopped.”   
Kenny patted his back, “He lied, sweetheart.”   
The smaller blond peered up at him and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, it ain’t no better than smoking cigarettes like you do.”   
Kenny nodded, “No, it is not. But at least I can smoke and drive without killing people.”   
Stan squinted at him, “But neither of you drive?”  
“Well, no, but the point is I could still drive because nicotine does not make you drunk.”  
“Whatever, you’re both fucking stupid.” Kyle declared.   
Suddenly, Tweek jerked his phone from his pocket on the first ring. His eyes were wide with a combination or worry and anticipation as he clicked Accept and pressed the device to his ear, immediately ducking out of the room and to a more secluded area. My stomach churned unpleasantly as I eyed his retreat. It would have been quite difficult for Tweek to get his mind off of Calum as was the goal if he chose to call right in the middle of the party. I felt as though some way, somehow, this was another ploy by Calum to cut Tweek off from his friends and make him feel isolated. God I hated him.   
“Is that Calum?” Kyle questioned after shuffling closer to me. I nodded in confirmation and leaned against the kitchen’s counter. The redhead frowned sympathetically, “Horrible timing.”   
“Not like he’d give a shit.” I said bitterly.   
Kyle patted me between my shoulder blades comfortingly as anger slowly built up inside of me. I didn’t exactly know what that specific event of all things got under my skin so much, but I couldn’t let it go. I suppose it was because I was so looking forward to spending some time with Tweek outside of school with my newly established group of friends. There was a hopeful delusion that he too would come to like Stan, Kenny, and Kyle’s company and eventually replace Calum with myself, but of course his boyfriend would make that impossible.  
From the room over, there was a sound of the front door being flung open promptly followed by enthusiastic whooping. Stan wore a bemused expression before pushing himself away from the counter and checking to see what the cheering was for. “Cartman!” his voice carried angrily, and that was all we needed to understand the situation.   
Kyle, Kenny, Butters, and I were soon to shadow Stan’s path to watch the drama unfold. In the living room, Cartman could be found pouring two bottle of an alcoholic beverage into two other guests’ cups simultaneously with a stupid grin plastered across his chubby face. I could physically feel Kyle becoming enraged beside me.   
“You gonna twist his nut sack now, Ky?” Kenny deadpanned.   
Despite the irritating situation, it was quite comical to see Stan storm over to Cartman and spit incoherent words of anger at him. I hadn’t seen Stan genuinely worked up in a long time, but it was pretty funny considering he was on the short-side and normally so mild-mannered. After a brief verbal altercation, we watched Stan grasp Cartman’s arm and drag him towards the kitchen. Caught off guard and protesting, Cartman swiftly set the glass bottles on the coffee table before they could spill, and ultimately accepted his fate and allowed Stan to manhandle him.   
“The hell were you thinking?!” Kyle started on him as we reentered the kitchen with the other boys.   
Laughing, Cartman shrugged, “What’s the big fuckin’ deal, bitch?”   
“Are you drunk?!” Kyle seethed, crossing his arms over his chest like a scolding parent.   
“Maybe just a lil’.”   
“I can’t fucking believe you, dude,” Stan ranted. “My parents are a house away, and could come over at any time to check on us! Do you know how much trouble I’d be in if they caught me serving alcohol at my sixteenth birthday party?!”   
“Listen, Stan,” Cartman started to say, lazily resting his hand on Stan’s shoulder and pointing his finger at his chest. “You gotta stop being a pussy, and just tell your parents that you’re gonna do what you want. You gotta be like, ‘Ay! I’m a grown ass man now, and I should start drinking like one!’.”   
“Eric, I don’t think it’s real nice to bring alcohol to Stan’s party when he asked you not to. Can’t you just take it home real quick instead?” Butters weighed in, his tone a bit uneven. You know how I mentioned he got picked on a lot earlier? Cartman was by far the biggest perpetrator. However, he had found it in himself to stand up to him by high school, which made his life a tiny bit easier.  
The intoxicated brunette snorted, shaking his head, “Ion get why I’m friends with a bunch of straight-laced vaginas like you.”  
“Just get it out of here! You seriously think it’s a good idea to have this stuff around Stan in the first place?!” Kyle shouted with fury obvious in his tone.   
This seemed to have a different effect on Cartman, as he merely let out an obnoxious laugh before shuffling into the next room. I was curious about what he meant, but clearly it wasn’t the time to ask.  
Stan groaned loudly, “Fucking idiot. He’s going to get himself killed one of these goddamn days.”   
Kenny draped a long arm around Kyle’s shoulders and sighed. “I hate watching people I care about go down this road. I seen it too many damn times.”   
Although I understood why the three boys were so upset about their friend burying his troubles in decedents, I could also see things from Cartman’s perspective. At that point I would have been lying if I had not considered walking into the next room and downing a cup of the intoxicating beverage. Not feeling anything was honestly pretty appealing.   
As if on cue to just add to the theatricality of the night, Tweek returned from his phone call with tears freefalling from his eyelids. He seemed rushed as he approached me and spoke in a shaky voice, “I’m leaving.”   
I peered down at him in concerned and caught his arm before he could retreat, “Hey, what happened? Are you okay?”   
“No—I just, I want to leave. I need to be alone, not with all these people around… Please let go.” He begged quietly without meeting my eyes once.   
Reluctantly, I let go of his arm and offered, “Do you want me to walk you?”   
“No, I just want to be alone.”   
With that, Tweek turned on his heels and promptly exited the building, leaving my heart throbbing in an unpleasant manner. Aware of the spectators surrounding me, I played off my embarrassment by maintaining my signature indifferent expression. It was increasingly difficult with each passing second of Tweek’s pained voice telling me he didn’t want me around playing over and over again in my head. It just hurt.   
Kenny was the first to speak up after the knife in my chest was twisted by Tweek, “Damn… I’m sorry, man.”   
I shrugged. “I’m fine,”   
Stan shook his head. “That was kinda a shitty way to talk to you, dude.”  
The words stung for some reason. Perhaps it was because they made me think ‘Oh, Tweek must not really like me anymore’ and I really didn’t want to think that. I glanced at Kyle, a bit grateful that he understood what I was going through, but the connection wasn’t quite enough to make me feel better. “It’s whatever. I’m gonna grab a Coke.”   
Only, I wasn’t planning on grabbing a Coke. Or at least, not Coke by itself.


	13. Chapter 13

“Fuck,” was the only appropriate verbalization for my physical state of being.   
Weakness invaded my chest and arms as any amount of light nearly blinded me. Each time I attempted to shift in my bed or see where I was I was reminded of those two facts in a painful fashion. I was utterly fatigued, but above all else, I felt ill.   
My stomach was rocking and aching from every possible angle. This had been the first time I actually wished I could just throw up and get it over with. It was almost like one painful, unrelenting cramp that immobilized me and the agony only worsened my blistering headache.   
Needless to say, I was in the worst shape I had been in in literal ages, all due to a stupid mistake. Hangovers are definitely not worth being drunk.   
My recollections of the prior night’s events were blurry, like watching them through a dirty glass screen. What I do know for sure is that I put down over half a bottle of vodka, I cried a little, and Kenny took me home, claiming that I became ill at the party and vomited. Praying that Stan, Kyle, and Kenny were still willing to be my friends was just another concern on my mind as the after effects of trying to forget how sad I was hit me like a bus. More than anything, I was disappointed in myself and my inability to get the hell over Tweek.   
I had a strong urge to scream at my mother for making so much noise as she pushed my door open to check on me. As I stifled myself, she said, “Baby, are you feeling any better?”   
“No.” I groaned simply and truthfully in reply. The realization that I was going to have to keep this a secret from Mom and continued to build on the story Kenny created the night before caused my stomach to churn even more.  
Frowning, she made her way to my bedside and took a seat on the edge of my mattress, reaching her hand out and combing her fingers through my hair. “Your friend Kenny brought you home last night and said you got really sick at the party. You weren’t drinking, were you?”   
‘Yes, and now everything is horrible’, I thought to myself, but instead I told her, “No, no. I think I have the stomach flu or something.”   
“I’m sorry, sweetie. Do you want me to make you some soup or get you some more blankets or anything?” Mom offered.   
“I’m okay. I’ll just try and get some sleep.” I assured her, giving myself an out as my headache had worsened from all the talking.  
She pressed a kiss to my hair and wished me good rest before exiting my room and leaving me to feel even guiltier. I moaned aloud in displeasure at my idiotic actions. I wished I could start the night over and stay far away from the drinks I imbibed. Despite what I thought at the time, I definitely did not need that to make me feel better. Sure, it took my mind off of things effectively for a while, but the next morning, I was still miserable about the Tweek situation on top of feeling like utter garbage. It truly was not worth it.   
It took an absurd amount of time for my eyes to adjust to the natural light spilling in between the crevices of my blinds. When I finally regained the ability to peel my eyelids apart without flinching, I decided it would be a good time to check for my phone and make sure it wasn’t abandoned on the streets of South Park somewhere.   
Lazily, I flung my arms to the sides and rubbed my sheets, attempting to feel for the iPhone until I realized that I had yet to change out of the outfit I had worn to Stan’s party. I reached down and slid my fingers into my back pocket. Sure enough, my phone was there where I had left it. I let out a sigh of relief before checking my messages.   
I had a missed call from Tweek from earlier that morning, a message form Thomas, and a text message from McCockmick reading; hey man i hope ur ok, that was brtal last nite. leme no if ur still alive when u wake up.   
I was grateful for Kenny’s concern about my well-being and responded by thanking him for catering to my drunken whims and assuring him that I was alright. I wasn’t alright at all, but Kenny had done his fair share of being nice to me for the week.   
I considered returning Tweek’s call, curious as to what he needed, but I decided against it. I had grossly overreacted about that very boy and his situation the night before and the last thing I wanted was another Calum Mitchell drama induced headache.   
Instead, I clicked on my conversation with Thomas and read the message from the night before telling me to have a great time. I unconsciously smiled at the gesture, yet I felt shamefaced all over again for being forced to inform Thomas of what I had done. I tapped on his contact and pressed the call button, putting my phone on speaker and burying my face against my duvet again.   
“Hey, Craig,” Thomas’s voice sounded sweetly from the other line.   
“Hi.” I replied, not realizing how weak my voice had been until I attempted to use it again. I cleared my throat before asking, “Where are you?”   
“We’re at the airport again, about to get on the flight home. Are you okay? You sound sick.”   
I sighed, “It’s a, um, long story… What time are you going to get home?”   
“Probably around six,” Thomas answered, remaining concern in his voice. “Do you want to come over and talk when I get there?”   
I pouted a lip, “No, you should rest, you’ve been away all weekend.”   
“Craig, you know I don’t mind. Besides, I missed you.”   
“I missed you, too.”   
“Alright, I’ll text you when I’m home.” He promised. “We’re about to go through security, so I’ll see you tonight!”  
“Okay, see you then.”   
With that, the call was disconnected, and I plugged my phone into the charger. As I lay in bed writhing in my self-inflicted pain I wondered what the hell I did to deserve someone as kind and caring as Thomas. Despite my complicated and mixed feelings, I was so happy that I had him as a shoulder to lean on.  
_  
At around six-fifteen at night I received the message from my boyfriend indicating that he had made it home and it was alright for me to head over. I had only been to his apartment a few times since we made it a habit to hang out around town and in photography club and he had only been to mine the same amount. There were no qualms with his home, only that I felt a bit intimidated by his mother. She worked out a lot and was on the taller side for a woman, so she could have easily beaten the shit out of me, but she was super nice.   
After bundling up to combat the chilly weather the outside world presented to me, I headed down the road to Thomas’s apartment complex. I felt a wave of relief wash over me when he appeared at the front door with that cute grin across his face and ushered me in. I kicked off my damp shoes in the hallway and followed him to his bedroom. I saw that he had not yet unpacked from his weekend with his grandparents in Columbus as his duffel bag sat in the center of his bed. Thomas pushed it to the floor and took a seat on the mattress, beckoning me to join. “Alright, now, what happened to you?”   
I was hesitant to even sit beside him knowing that I would have to confess my sins sooner or later. I trudged over to the plain black duvet where Thomas sat and lowered myself onto the bed. Glancing between my nervous hands and Thomas’s curious gaze, I sluggishly began to explain what occurred, “So, I went to Stan’s birthday party and it was pretty fun for a little, but then Tweek had Calum drama and it pissed me off… And then Kyle and Stan had Cartman drama and that pissed them off… And, uh, Tweek came back from his phone call with Calum and he was so upset, but he wouldn’t tell me what happened, and I got extra mad. And, the next thing I know, I’m drunk. Then the next, next thing I know, I’m hungover in my bed. And, I feel horrible about it.”   
Thomas paused, face contorting in confusion. I could tell that he was not expecting me to have done that kind of thing. If I had even mentioned drinking or drug usage at all, it was more than likely about how stupid Cartman or the goth kids were for being high at school. “Oh, shit… Well, I’m really sorry you had a hangover. That must have sucked.”   
“Yeah, but I deserved it. I was stupid and petty and irresponsible and—“   
“Craig, it’s okay, really,” Thomas interrupted my self-depreciating list and squeezed my thigh consolingly. “It wasn’t the smartest decision, but it’s not like you killed someone.”   
I sighed, “Yeah, but I just… I don’t know, I just feel gross. Kyle’s probably going to lecture me.”   
“Well, yes, but he does scold everyone for something at some point, so, don’t feel too bad,” Thomas replied and scooted closer yet, pulling me into a warm hug and planting a kiss against my cheek. I returned the gesture tightly and hid my face in his neck. I wasn’t aware of how emotional I felt until that moment. My chest swelled, the way it did when I was overstimulated with drama or stress. I squeezed my eyes shut and took a few moments to feel sorry for myself and let Thomas comfort me.   
“It’ll be okay, Craig. You’re not gross—at all. Getting drunk one time, or repeatedly for that matter, doesn’t make you a bad person. You just have to forgive yourself and don’t do it again if it bothers you this much. Also, if you’re really upset about something, you can always tell me about it.” Thomas promised in a whisper after a few moments of silence.   
I sniffled and rested my head against his shoulder, peering up at his face through my peripheral vision. I nearly whined, “How are you so great all the time?”   
Chuckling, Thomas assured me, “It’s a secret.”   
I smiled and pecked his cheek lightly before we separated and delved into a conversation about his trip to Ohio, then my annoyance with Calum, then superheroes, then Netflix shows until I was able to push that empty, uncomfortable feeling aside and smile again.   
Although I had not been grossly in love with Thomas for years as I had been with Tweek, I did very much like him. On top of being an awesome person, he just made things so simple. There was no other boy, or abusive boy, or sexuality confusion, or parent drama. It was just us, and we just got along, and we just made out sometimes. It was the kind of relationship I needed then, even if I thought Tweek was what I wanted.   
__  
Monday was a very important day for Tweek; so important, in fact, that he skipped school. Calum had been released from the psych ward, and Mr. and Mrs. Mitchel took Tweek with them to pick him up. Apparently Calum had thrown a tantrum at the fact that he was not able to have Tweek visit while he was being mentally quarantined, so it was a request of his that was obviously catered to. I was happy for Tweek, honestly. He was so relieved that he wouldn’t have to be limited to fifteen minutes of phone-time a day and that Calum would be released in general. With that being said, the selfish side of me was dismal at the idea of having to see them together again.   
Tuesday Calum was allowed to return to school. No matter how much I attempted to condition myself to being sympathetic and civil, however, I could not help but wish to punch him square in the face as soon as I saw him with his arms wrapped around Tweek.   
Kenny and Stan approached my locker just in time to see Tweek and Calum’s reunion make-out session just a few lockers away. My blond friend scrutinized them a moment before scrunching his noise, “That’s way too much tongue.”   
“Sick, dude.” Stan laughed and shook his head. “Does this mean Tweek’s not sitting with us anymore, or Calum’s sitting with us also?”   
I shrugged, “I don’t know, but if he sits down, it’s a good time to look for a different table.”   
“Nah, we’ll stay and deal with him. We still sit with Cartman, don’t we?” Kenny pointed out astutely as he leaned against the locker to my left. As he ran a hand through his shaggy blond hair, he realized that he had left a cigarette tucked behind his ear. Swiftly, and rather ungracefully, he stashed it into the pocket of his black jacket and sighed in relief. “Can’t believe I almost did that again,”   
Stan smirked, “You know, for someone with such a reputation for being this badass, you’re a fucking idiot.”   
Kenny shrugged innocently, “I never confirmed those rumors.”   
We shared a chuckle as we headed towards the cafeteria. I prayed to all that is holy that Tweek and Calum returned to their old table, but something inside me told me that they would probably plop down right beside me and play tongue hockey through the entire period. I was also a bit concerned with the state of mine and Kyle’s relationship. While Stan and Kenny had both proved that weren’t scared off or thought any less of me for what I had pulled at Stan’s birthday party, Kyle and I hadn’t really gotten the chance to smooth things over. Never in a million years had I thought that I would care a little bit about Kyle Broflovksi’s opinion, yet, there I was. Life is weird like that.   
The three of us made it to our usual table, where Thomas, Kyle, and Cartman where already sat chatting among themselves. As I claimed my seat beside my boyfriend, I eyed Kyle and patiently waited for him to acknowledge my presence. When he did, he cocked an eyebrow at me facetiously, “Are you feeling better now, dipshit?”   
I sighed, partially out of relief, “Yes, thank god.”   
“You’re such a fucking lightweight.” Cartman scoffed and shook his head disapprovingly at me.   
Kyle snapped his head towards him, “He drank more than you.”   
Pausing, Cartman stared back at Kyle and considered this information through narrowed eyes, “You don’t know that.”  
“Yeah, I do. You have maybe two cups of and he downed almost an entire bottle.” Kyle proved his accuracy with attitude laced into his response.   
“I drank, like, way more than he did before I came back!”   
Kyle perked his head to the side, expression accusatory, “Really?”  
“Whatever, Jew!” Cartman huffed, “My point is I wasn’t bedridden for an entire day because of my hangover. You build up immunity.”   
“I don’t need alcohol immunity,” I assured them. “Being drunk once is quite enough for me.”   
“I’m still pissed at you for bringing that shit to my party.” Stan informed Cartman expressionlessly.   
I noticed Kyle and Kenny exchanging worried, wistful looks, which was a bit out of the ordinary. I supposed Stan was just very against alcohol, or feared being grounded for the rest of his high school career. Cartman remained blasé. “Oh, stop crying, nobody got hurt.”   
“Actually, Craig’s stomach was destroyed and he said his arms felt soupy.” Thomas corrected him humorously, earning a middle finger from me.   
“Soupy?” Kyle wondered, amused.   
I shrugged, “It made sense in the moment.”   
Just when I thought that things were going to be okay again and that the day would possibly be decent, the inevitable occurred. The six of us watched silently as Calum and Tweek slid onto the bench beside us, remaining in their own little world for the rest of reality to gag at. I instantly tensed up, and apparently it was noticeable, because Thomas grabbed my hand.   
Cartman groaned, “I fucking hate couples like that. We get it—you think you’re gonna get married and you call each other ‘kitten’ and ‘daddy’ in bed because you think it’s edgy. No one else gives a shit.”   
“Hey, don’t kinkshame.” Kenny warned.   
Kyle pulled a disgusted look judged them together. “I can’t say I disagree. Do they just not think that everyone around them can see them?”   
“They don’t care.” I informed.   
After we had successfully conversed normally for a few minutes, Calum and Tweek’s conversation became audible from where I sat. I wasn’t sure if they were necessarily arguing, but it was difficult to disregard. I tuned out Kenny’s story and focused on the couple to my left.   
“My parents don’t hate you, Cal! If they did I wouldn’t even be allowed to talk to you.” Tweek assured him, desperation in his tone.   
“If they didn’t they wouldn’t have grounded you from me. Face it, nobody important to you likes me. And, it’s okay, I understand why. I’m a piece of shit.” Calum explained with obvious intentions of making Tweek feel guilty.   
My nervous blond friend huffed, “Please don’t say things like that about yourself. You’re not a piece of shit and my parents care about you a lot.”   
“That’s bullshit, Tweek, and you know it. You’re the only person who even gives a shit about me. Seriously, if I didn’t have you, I probably would just try again. I hate that I can’t get your parents to like me.”   
“Cal, they do! They just didn’t want me to get hurt again, that’s it. But they know I’m not going to now, because I trust you.” Tweek continued to try and assure him, although something told me Calum was inconsolable.   
Calum scoffed indignantly, casting his gaze away from Tweek. “Nobody else trusts me with you. I don’t even trust me with you. I don’t understand why you stay with me. I’m nothing.”   
“Hey, Tweek?” My mouth blurted without my brain’s consent. I just couldn’t take listening to that soap-opera, unsavory bullshit anymore. When I obtained his attention I swiftly made something up to actually inquire about, “Uh, did I leave my Empire Strikes Back hoodie in your room? I can’t find it.”   
Tweek shrugged, and the simple gesture showed he was trembling. My fists started to clench in anger, but I reminded myself that Thomas was holding one of them and Tweek’s attention was momentarily on me. “I-I have no clue, but I’ll check for you when I get home.”   
“Thanks, you’re a babe.” I added the last part simply to piss Calum off. He shot me a territorial glare. My expression remained listless as I raised my middle finger towards him, turning my attention back to my friends and blocking out his complaints about me.   
When lunch came to an end, I caught up with Tweek and was thankful he was alone. I began, “Tweek, you remember how you said that Calum makes you feel like everything’s your fault?”   
Tweek’s eyes nervously glanced from side to side as he replied quietly, “Uh, I do, yeah… Why?”   
“Well, he’s doing it again. Like, all fucking lunch period. Are you going to talk to him about it?”   
“Craig,” his voice sounded defeated, and by his tone alone I could tell that the answer was some variation of ‘No’, “I’m just glad that he’s back. He may not be whole yet, but he’s here. I’m trying to not worry about anything else, so please don’t do it for me!”   
Looking into his sincere eyes, I knew that’s how he felt. I wasn’t to scream at him and let him know how hard he was being played. I wanted to snap him back to consciousness and kick Calum to the curb with my own feet. Instead, I simply sigh and shrugged. “Alright, Tweek.”   
“Thanks.” He barely finished his word before he turned and strutted off to his next period. It was so infuriating to watch him march away and know that he would unavoidably be headed toward someone like Calum, who would never love him or treat him the way he deserved.


	14. Chapter 14

“I’m surprised you don’t hate me after what I did at Stan’s party.” I admitted to Kyle after we got situated on my kitchen table. It turned out that the tutoring session he had given me a week prior was not a one-time thing. In fact, he was possibly a bit strangely eager to help me with math and chemistry that I didn’t understand. I feel like he was really desperate for some kind of academic challenge.   
Kyle smirked and shook his head, “If I hated people because they did something I don’t like I would have no friends. Besides, look at Cartman. I don’t think he’s gone a day remaining sober in two weeks.”   
“Jesus Christ,” I huffed.   
“Yeah,” The redhead raised his eyebrows as he flipped through a meticulously organized three-ring binder. “And I guess I can’t pretend that I hate him, since we’ve been friends for years.”   
I shrugged, “Yeah, when you spend every day of your life hanging out with someone it’s not unreasonable to think you guys don’t actually want to kill each other all the time.”   
“Definitely sometimes,” Kyle replied, and I wasn’t sure if it was a joke or not. I knew I wanted to kill Cartman on a daily basis.   
Before I gave him a chance to delve into the fascinating topic of trinomials, I peered over at Kyle and question with a bit of tentativeness, “Why don’t you just have a serious conversation with him about it?”  
“You don’t think I’ve tried? He’s literally a drug addict! I mean, Kenny smokes weed sometimes and it smells bad and it isn’t great for his body and he’s stupid for like two hours, but Cartman’s completely indisposed for like… half the fucking day. And putting chemicals like that into his body is so much worse on his liver. Then he washes it down with a bunch of goddamn alcohol. It’s like he wakes up everyone morning and is like ‘Hmm… What else can I do to slowly shut down my vital organs and make Kyle panic?’ I can’t stand it.”  
I frowned, empathetic to how it feels to watch someone you love self-destruct. “Well, I know you’ve told him it’s shitty at lunch, but have you ever gone up to him one on one and tried to tell him that it really bothers you and he should stop?”   
Kyle nodded enthusiastically, “Yes! I was actually really nice and calm about it, too. He doesn’t give a shit about what anyone thinks.”  
“Sometimes people just need to figure out what they’re doing is stupid on their own.” I guessed with a shrug.   
“Yeah, but in his case, a wake-up call would be a fucking hospital visit or liver transplant or a car wreck. I don’t want him to go through any of that.” Kyle explained, pushing his fingers through his ruby curls in frustration.   
I found it tremendously difficult to believe that anyone actually liked Eric Cartman and cared what happened to him, and the fact that one of the most intelligent people I knew did made it even more mind-boggling to me. Despite any unsavory habit he may have had, he was a chauvinistic douchebag. There was not really much for him to offer in any way. Overwhelmed by morbid curiosity, I inquired, “What do you even find appealing about Cartman?”   
Kyle seemed a bit caught off guard by the question as he quickly flicked his eyes to me and then back to a spot on the ceiling. He paused as if carefully considering my inquiry. Slowly, he replied, “I don’t know… Before high school and all the drugs and shit happened, we were actually really close. If we were all four staying the night together, Stan and Ken would fall asleep and he and I would just stay up and talk for hours about random shit and sometimes it actually got really deep. It’s like he’s the only one who I really got to know in that way. And, I know what Cartman is, but I’ve also seen this other side of him and I just… It sucks that he can’t just always be that good, cool person, you know?”   
I nodded, “Yeah, no, I definitely get that. It’s just hard to imagine when you have only seen the worst person ever side of him.”   
Kyle grabbed the half-drunken water bottle beside him and tipped it towards me, proposing an improper toast, “To care about stupid people who constantly disappoint you.”   
Chuckling dryly, I lifted my bottle and tapped it against his. We laughed about it together despite the fact that it really wasn’t funny to either of us.   
_  
Those days it was rare for Tweek to be in a remotely decent mood. Of course he had always been perpetually stressed about every aspect of his life, but he was at least able to have fun and be generally okay with being alive. Ever since he started dating Calum again he was an anxious zombie. He was physically exhausted and emotionally drained, while simultaneously worried out of his mind on a daily basis. So, when he came into school in a light-hearted mood and a grin, I was pleasantly surprised.   
“Hey, Craig,” he greeted with the absence of that plaintive pout I had grown so used to. “Are you doing anything after school?”   
Thomas and I exchanged glances as he searched for a discarded folder in his locker before I replied, “We were probably just going to hang out at my house or something. Do you have other plans for us?”   
Tweek shrugged his shoulders underneath an oversized tie-dye hoodie that I bought him for his fifteenth birthday. The fact that it was his favorite article of clothing was something I was probably too proud of. “I thought maybe we could all go do something. Like an awkward teenage double date, but gay.”   
“Gay won’t be hard to accomplish.” Thomas snorted.   
I sighed, knowing that I would have to tell the truth as to why I absolutely did not want to do that, “Look, man, you know you’re my best friend, and I’d do anything for you. But being around Calum makes me want to kill myself.”   
Tweek flinched at my poorly timed joke, and I muttered an apology before he replied, “I know you guys don’t get along right now, but I think you would love each other if you just tried! Cal’s really been turning it around these past couple days. He’s really determined to better himself! Isn’t that worth giving a second chance to?”   
It was then I understood why Tweek was uncharacteristically chirpy. Calum had yet again made it to the point of his relationship with Tweek where he convinced the hopelessly gullible kid that he was going to cease hiss self-harming tendencies and make a conscious effort to improve his lifestyle. According to my calculations based of past events this act would last a week at the most. After the last sliver of hope had been sufficiently flushed down the toilet, Tweek was at an even lower point than before. Seeing him like that again was something I didn’t think I could do.  
“If he isn’t annoying and Thomas is okay with it, I guess we can do something after school.” I sighed in agreement, knowing regret would be inevitable. I peered down at Thomas for his confirmation.   
“I’m free.” He grinned, and then gave me a reassuring look. Knowing that Thomas would be at my side made the situation a lot less daunting. I wrapped my arm around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his temple, grinning wider when he blushed.   
As the three of us maneuvered down the corridor, we came across a cluster of people gathered in one place. Various whoops and chants were becoming more audible as we pressed towards the crowd in bemusement. It was pretty evident that there was some kind of altercation, but the details were still hidden behind the heads and bodies pushing and pulling one another to get a good view. Since I tower over everyone, I easily saw what was going on.   
“Fucking say something, quarterback! Tell everyone how fucking awesome you are!” Token shouted at Clyde, his taunting words followed up with an abrupt push that sent him stumbling backwards.   
Clyde’s expression was angrier than I had ever seen. His chest visibly rising in falling as his nostrils flared. He shoved his palms harshly against Token’s shoulders, “It seems like you’ve been doing that enough with all the shit you’ve been talking! What don’t you just shut the fuck up and stop being a jealous ass!”   
“Oh no, man! This is horrible!” Tweek exclaimed from beside me when he registered the situation and grabbed at the ends of his hair.   
“I’m gonna stop them before they get themselves suspended,” I grumbled before beginning to force my way towards them. It was a bit more challenging to do so than I originally anticipated thanks to my vastly underwhelming physic.   
When I reached them their shoving had escalated into full-scale slamming over another against lockers as they struggled for dominance. The roars of the thirty different voices chanting “Fight! Fight! Fight!” was overwhelming and frankly annoying. I approached them closer, wary of enduring an unwarranted punch to the face. I shouted to be heard over the spectators, “Stop it! Stop!” They both recoiled in opposite directions when I forcefully grasped their forearms. Staring at me in a combination of shock and frustration as they huffed, I spoke again before my opportunity was filled with screaming and more violence, “You’re both being stupid, just stop. Remember two months ago when you were best friends? What’s wrong with you?”   
“Oh, don’t give me that shit, Craig! Tweek did the same thing to you,” Token paused, snapping his neck back at Clyde, “completely abandoned you and changed his entire personality!”   
“That’s so not what happened! I finally became someone important and you can’t stand the fact that people like me better than you now! You’re jealous, just admit it!” Clyde spat back as if the statement were self-evident. His rage-filled grey eyes landed on me as I pressed my palms against their chests, keeping them apart, “Why do you even give a shit, Craig?! You’re hanging out with Stan and those assholes now and your new boyfriend! You don’t give a shit about us!”   
Then it was my turn to be utterly indignant, “Excuse me? So, you’re trying to say you weren’t the one that bailed on me for a month straight to go be a football star?”   
“That’s what I’m saying!” Token exclaimed and gestured towards me. “You stopped caring as soon as you got what you wanted!”   
“Y-You guys, please! This isn’t something we need to yell at each other about in the middle of the hallway!” Tweek’s voice came from our right. I was sincerely surprised by his decision to weigh in on the dispute. Normal circumstances said he would be staying as far away from the lime-light as possible. Yet, there he stood in front of everyone with clenched fists and a shaking voice. “Just calm down before someone gets the principal or a teacher! It doesn’t have to be like this!”   
Clyde scoffed resentfully, “Oh, look, you took your head out of Calum’s ass enough to see what’s going on out here in the real world.”   
“Lay off.” I warned Clyde. I almost wished I hadn’t immediately jumped to Tweek’s defense as I always did. I added, “He’s just trying to keep you dumbasses from getting suspended. We’re already on enough people’s Snapchat stories. Let’s just walk away.”   
Clyde growled and pointed at Token like a toddler who had gotten his favorite toy taken from him, “I’ll walk the fuck away when he stops going around telling everyone that I’m arrogant and I suck at football! It’s pissing me off!”   
“Am I wrong?” Token scoffed and took an offensive stride towards Clyde again, “And don’t pretend like you’re innocent! You’re telling people I’m a shitty friend and I think I’m better than everyone because I’m rich!”   
“Oh my god, who fucking cares?” I groaned, exasperated.   
Tweek shouted over the growing laughter and chanting, “You guys are both shitty friends! You both let the stupidest things get between you. You’re both immature and only care about being popular! Like that’s gonna fucking matter when we leave high school!”   
“Hey, what’s going on here, kids?” An authoritative voice inquired from behind a classroom door. Considering the general quality of staff in South Park schools, I was not surprised at how long it took a faculty member to notice the potentially dangerous situation between two students. The four of us all snapped our heads towards the man whom we recognized as the junior class English teacher. He wore a skeptical frown beneath his salt and pepper mustache and his wrist rested against his hip, “Get to class. All of you!”   
As the crowd dispersed around us, muttering to themselves about the outcome of the verbal fight, the four of us remained. I watched as Token and Clyde shot each other one last hate filled glower before directing it to Tweek and I and trudging off in opposite directions, even though we were all headed to the same class. I was able to release the breath I was holding when they were apart. Then, Thomas had managed to catch up with Tweek and me, concern written on his face. “What the hell happened? Are you two okay?”   
We nodded in unison, although we both knew we were lying. Until then, we could easily deny the fact that out group had completely deteriorated within the first month of sophomore year, but then it was right in our faces. We had officially lost two of our closest friends, and they had lost each other. It was brutal no matter who else we were associated with.   
I spent a while wondering if it could have been different if we turned back the clock and tried again. It wouldn’t have been, though. Something would have come between all of us, be it Clyde being ‘popular’, Token becoming the president of student council, or me becoming friends with Stan’s gang. Sometimes things change when they didn’t really need to, one of the many shitty things I was learning about life.


	15. Chapter 15

My very least favorite quality of Calum’s, of endless obnoxious qualities, was his ability to be completely normal and tolerable when he wanted to be on someone’s good side. For some reason (Tweek), I agreed to hang out with the two of them and bring Thomas along with me. We decided to walk over to the arcade to play games and screw around for a bit (Tweek specifically chose my favorite place in town so I wouldn’t bail). However, on the way, Thomas leaned over and whispered six words that I will never forgive him for verbalizing: “Calum really doesn’t seem that bad.”   
With the absolute dirtiest look I could physically muster, I peered over at him and replied, “He is. He’s actually the worst.”  
Thomas’ eyes widened a bit, his expression simultaneously amused and shocked. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s scary.”  
“Seriously, this is just an act. He just wants you to think I’m the one who’s unreasonable.” I assured him, glaring daggers at the back of Calum’s head as he strode beside Tweek, both wearing huge grins across their faces. The fact that Tweek was a less upset made my heart lighten a bit, but I couldn’t help reminding myself that it was nothing more than a temporary state before the walls would come crashing down even harder.   
“Craig! Do you remember the last time we came here and I actually beat Clyde in a Ms. Pac-Man tournament?” Tweek addressed me, turning his torso towards me while still holding onto Calum’s hand.   
I smirked at the memory, “He was so triggered.”  
“Dude does not like to lose.” Tweek snorted as we entered the arcade.   
It was a haven for me. As we had been growing up with the insane advances in technology in such a short amount of time, the buildings around us had begun to change with the times. Instead of having only one tiny, overpriced grocery store, we had a Whole Foods as well. But one place that had remained long before I even had a memory of the town was the arcade, stocked with classic, bulky game machines along the walls, pin-ball, air-hockey, ping-pong, and Skee Ball. I always thought that place was too good for our jerkwater town.   
Instantly I gravitated towards the Tetris machine, which happened to be my favorite, and the others pushed in my direction. As I slotted in my quarters and began my game, the conversation carried on as Tweek casually started a Pac-Man game, possibly to defend his title.   
“So,” Tweek began, “I think I’m going to try out for the basketball team… I don’t know, I hate chess and I actually really like playing basketball in gym.”   
Pleasantly astonished by Tweek’s declaration, I glanced up from my ever important game for a split second to discern whether or not it was a joke. His expression seemed set with sincerity. I cocked an eyebrow, “Really? That’d be cool, dude.”   
“Why do you want to do that?” Calum interrogated with a sour tone. Noticing Tweek’s shoulders naturally shrinking forward, I became subconsciously defensive. “You’re too anxious to perform in front of people.”   
Pinching my eyebrows together, I cast my gaze over to the suddenly less peppy Tweek. He gave Calum a puppy-dog expression over at Calum and shrugged, “I don’t know, I mean… I know everybody on the team and I know how to play. Maybe it’d be better for me.”   
Calum stuck up his nose, “Okay.”   
Tweek must have sensed my annoyance because he caught my gaze and rolled his eyes in agreement. I couldn’t understand what Tweek had said that could be remotely upsetting to Calum, but he was in a very foul mood for the rest of the time, even after Tweek had dragged him off the side and attempted to grill an answer out of him.   
Thomas had muttered to me, “I see what you mean, now. What’s he even got to complain about?”   
I shrugged, my chest full of rage, “He always does this shit to Tweek.”   
I felt a great swell of relief when we parted ways with the bickering couple, Thomas and I headed towards the neighborhood. I was going to make an attempt to not complain about the situation the entire way, but even I can’t contain my emotions on occasion. “I just can’t fucking believe him. All Tweek said was that he wanted to join the basketball team, which is a good thing! He’ll be active and part of something that he actually enjoys. Why does Calum feel the need to shit on that?”   
“Fuck,” Thomas groaned inadvertently, then let out a sigh. “I don’t know. Maybe he thinks it’ll make Tweek pay less attention to him?”   
“Yeah, that sounds like him.” I huffed. “It just sucks to watch Tweek have feelings for him when he doesn’t even get treated how he deserves to be.”   
“Yeah…” Thomas agreed half-heartily, though his mind seemed to be elsewhere. This was confirmed when he glanced away, his voice becoming vaguely graver, “Craig, can I ask you something?”   
My brain switched gears, honing in on Thomas’s concerned expression. “Yeah, what’s wrong?”   
He hesitated for a moment as he chewed on his bottom lip, “Listen,” he began, “Don’t take this question the wrong way, because it isn’t like I don’t trust you or I’m trying to assume anything bad about you. But, do you like Tweek? In a more-than-friends kind of way?”   
I froze—not physically, but in my words and mind. Watching the concrete move beneath our feet, my heart became heavy with the realization that I had no choice but to answer (and answer with a lie) I said, “I mean, I used to think I did, but we’re just really close. I just hate seeing him in this kind of relationship.”   
It wasn’t entirely dishonest, but I was still nervous Thomas would see right through me. There was a pang of guilt in my chest as well as that fear. I didn’t want to have those subtle heart palpitations when Tweek was near me, because I did like Thomas a lot. I wished my feelings could have been less convoluted.   
“Ah, okay. Sorry, it’s just the way you talk about him sometimes. I’m not jealous or mad or anything, I was just wondering if something had happened between you two.” Thomas replied, seeming as if a weight had rolled off his shoulders.   
“No, never,” I assured him. That certainly wasn’t a lie.   
After Thomas and I had spent a few hours hanging out and he had gone home, I found that Tweek had sent me a text; So, Cal’s mad bc he doesn’t want me to do sports bc he’s already on the football team and he wants to be the “boy-ish” one in the relationship. Idk, whatever  
I felt my blood boil beneath my skin as I read and reread the message, just to make sure I wasn’t mistaken. Then, I laughed. I actually cackled aloud. It sounded a bit as though I was losing my mind. I couldn’t believe how ridiculous this boy was.   
“Hello?” Tweek answered my call.   
“Are you fucking serious?” I shot back immediately with an angry scoff.   
“Yeah,” he agreed, knowing instantly what I was speaking of. “He was upset about that for a bit, then he felt bad for being mad about it, then got mad at me for being upset about it.”   
“What’s it even matter to him? Isn’t the point of a gay relationship that there are two boys in it? And either way, girls play sports, too!”   
“I don’t know, Craig, honestly. But, he’s starting to really piss me off. I know I let a lot of stuff slide, but this is just downright immature.”   
My discontent was turning into joy. Tweek was finally sifting through the bullshit, and much sooner than last time. “Then break up with him. He’s so fucking rude to you on a daily basis.”   
“I can’t just break up with him, Craig, he’s still going through a lot. And I still like him a lot. It’s just… I wish he wouldn’t take it all out on me.”   
“Then at least tell him that, Tweek. I know this whole basketball thing seems insignificant, but it’s actually really toxic! He wants you to be less of yourself in order for him to feel like he fits a stereotype better… it’s like, honestly homophobic! Please promise me you will not let it slide.”  
“I’ll try… Thanks, Craig. I just want things to be okay.” Tweek sighed, and I knew I couldn’t help him there.   
But I really wanted things to be okay for him, too. Yet, the only way for that to happen is for Calum to fuck off.


	16. Chapter 16

Not even Stan or Kenny knew why, but Kyle was pissed. The redhead stalked into our classroom with the nastiest glare he had ever managed, his brown eyes burning like an intense and unstable flame. I was far too intimidated to go near him, let alone ask what was wrong. Even Mr. Garrison was wary of his behavior.   
The only one brave enough to address the seething Kyle was more than likely the person who caused him to feel the way he did. It was very possible that Cartman was too high to even realize Kyle was upset. He nonchalantly strolled into the classroom and took his seat behind him. I saw that Kyle’s grip on the book he was attempting to distract himself with had become much tighter.   
“Hey, Kyley, did we have homework in history? I didn’t do shit.” Cartman chuckled, reeling in closer to Kyle. It when he was ignored that he noticed an abnormality in Kyle’s actions. “Hello? Earth to Kyle—we’ve got a Huston, problem—“   
“Shut the fuck up and leave me alone until you’re one-thousand percent sober. And then, still don’t fucking talk to me.” Kyle finally spat back in a quickly-paced, articulate whisper.  
Cartman’s expression shifted instantly into a combination of amused and slightly scared, “Damn, are you still pissed about last night?”   
“I said fuck off!” This time it wasn’t a whisper.   
As the obnoxious bell rang loudly through the building to let us know it was time for us to be in our respective homerooms. I managed to catch Stan’s attention, my expression questioning. With wide blue eyes, he pulled his lips into a tight line and gave his shoulders a shrug.   
Quite Mr. Garrison announced a few pieces of random information about the school to us before allowing us to sit and relax for the remaining ten minutes of homeroom. In that time, Tweek leaned over my desk and inquired, “Dude, is Kyle okay?”   
“No clue.” I returned, watching as my friend’s cheeks grew as red as his hair.   
When the next bell blasted, Kyle was the first to push his chair out and stalk out of the room. Cartman turned to Kenny and Stan for answers. “The fuck is his problem?”   
“I don’t know, let’s go talk to him. If we let his anger fester he’ll turn on me.” Kenny suggested, and the rest of us gave our non-verbal agreement and set off to his locker. We found Kyle slamming things around inside his locker, a look of fury still etched into his features.   
Cartman approached him fearlessly, seemingly very confident that Kyle won’t physically accost him, “Look, Kyle, I know you’re mad at me, but—“   
Kyle let out what I can only classify as a growl, “Didn’t I tell you to stay the fuck away from me? I don’t want to see your face for at least until I die.”   
Kenny bravely tested the waters, “Could you at least tell us what’s going on, Ky?”   
My heart thudded harshly against my ribcage when Kyle slammed his locker shut. He spun on his heels and directed his gaze at the tall blond beside me. “The one day a week that Cartman and I hang out is Monday night. We always catch up on our shows that Stan and Kenny don’t watch together. And he can’t even stay sober for that one goddamn day. I’m so fucking done with his drugs and his constant need to be high or coming up with schemes to make money off of getting other people high. I’m done with it.”   
Cartman groaned, “Awe, come on, Kyle, why’s it such a big deal? There’s no reason to be a bitch to everyone because I showed up a little high!”   
“It is a big fucking deal! It’s a huge fucking deal when you can’t even come hang out with me without being on some kind of drug! Don’t act like it’s nothing, you asshole!” he shot back fiercely, and I began to feel as though I was on some kind of reality television show.   
“Look at me—I’m still standing and I’m perfectly healthy. There’s not need to get all pissy about me popping pills everyone once in a while!”   
“Every once in a while?! It’s been a month since you’ve been sober!” Kyle shouted, ignoring the audience they were obtaining and barely allowing Eric to finish his sentence. “You’re so fucking selfish! Do you even care that what you do one a daily basis affects your friends? Affects me?! Do you want us all to go through the same thing we did with Stan over again?!”   
“Stop putting that Stan shit on me, man! And it affects you, huh? Aren’t you the one that yells at me constantly for doing what makes me feel good?!” Cartman had begun to display some of those raw emotions that were radiating off of Kyle. I had inadvertently drifted closer to Stan, feeling like a kid whose parents had been in a passionate argument.   
“Are you fucking stupid?! You know what I went through, and you’re putting me through it again!” He started, entering his personal bubble and craning his neck down to meet Cartman’s eyes. “I care about you guys more than anything! All I do is worry about you and wish you’d stop fucking around with this stuff! I think about it constantly, and it breaks my fucking heart, so don’t you dare try to tell me how I feel!”   
Cartman swallowed hard, and though it was obvious Kyle had caught him off guard, he managed, “Why does it even matter to you?! We’re supposed to hate each other, remember?”  
Kyle scoffed irately, “If you think I hate you, you’re a fucking moron. I love you, you piece of shit! We were actually supposed to be best fucking friends, then you bailed on me again!” everyone’s jaw fell almost as rapidly as Cartman’s did. The redhead smiled indignantly and nodded, fingers clutching his binder tightly to his chest. “Yeah. So, fuck you if you don’t think I give a shit. And fuck you if you don’t think it hurts that you have to be high to be with me, too, now.”   
With that, Kyle harshly brushed past Cartman and then the rest of the spectators. Everyone was shocked to see that Kyle had not only claimed Cartman was his best friend, but also that he loved him. The only person who didn’t appear flabbergasted was Stan, who seemed forlorn instead. As soon as he was able to catch up with reality, Cartman headed in the direction Kyle had retreated. Kenny snapped our necks to exchanged utterly baffled looks with one another. “What…just happened?”   
“Yo, what the fuck was that?” another spectator chimed in. I peered to my right to see Clyde and Wendy looking wildly confused, “Are they gay now too?”  
“Dude, no,” Kenny snorted, resting his elbow against Stan’s shoulder. “Actually, maybe. I don’t know.”   
Stan narrowed his eyes up at Kenny, “No, this is honestly mostly my fault.”   
“Honey, no it is not,” Wendy assured him, hooking her arm around his, pushing Kenny aside. Kenny blinked dramatically at her rudeness and leaned up against the locker instead of on his friend.   
“C’mon.” Stan sighed, peering down at his girlfriend. “You all heard what Kyle said. He doesn’t want to go through what I put him through again. It’s my fault he’s so upset.”  
“Stan, c’mon, don’t put all this on yourself. First of all, Kyle is always angry regardless of what any of us do, and second of all, you got help! Cartman’s just—” Kenny began, but Stan cut him off.  
“I’m gonna go find Kyle.” With that, he trudged off with Wendy tailing behind him. I remained with Kenny, also remaining completely out of the loop.   
Kenny let out a long breath, and glanced over at me, “Family drama. Makes me need a cigarette.”   
With that, he left me alone with an equally bewildered Clyde. We exchanged looks before he asked me, “Do you have any idea what Stan did?”  
I shook my head, “I have no clue what’s going on, man.”  
As we walked together down the hall, Clyde glanced up at the clock and then turned to me with a small chuckle, “You gotta tell me if you ever figure it out. We should catch up soon, I gotta hear about all the Stan gang drama you’ve been through.”   
Clyde left me feeling annoyed and defensive of my new friends. Before this year I would have been eager to make fun of the group and judge them, but all I truly wanted to do in that moment was find and console them all.  
_  
Later that day, Tweek approached me appearing shattered and lost as ever due to Calum going downhill again. On our way to Tweek Bro’s, he informed me that Calum had relapsed and was continuing to do worse and worse in terms of his physical and mental well-being.   
“I feel like I’ve said this a thousand times, Craig, but I just don’t know what to do. I want to be there for him so bad, and I will be, but this is so exhausting. And it feels like he doesn’t even want my help.” Tweek expounded, distraught and restless.   
“He doesn’t want your help,” I assured him conclusively, “he wants your pity and undivided attention.”   
Tweek raked his fingers through his messy blond locks, the static energy from his fingerless gloves causing it to stick up and out of place even more. My heart pounded with the sudden desire to run my fingers through the wispy waves, but I immediately shook my head and replaced those thoughts with the mental image of my actual, cute boyfriend. I had really wished that it would become easier to do this at some point.  
“I don’t think that’s true, Craig… He really is going through a lot. He needs my help. I don’t want him to go back to the psych ward, but I feel like it might actually help him.”   
I shook my head, “That only works if you want it to. He doesn’t really want help.”   
Tweek granted me a puzzled glare, “I can’t see why anyone wouldn’t want help.”   
“Some people find comfort in depression. And some people, who may genuinely have problems, use them to manipulate people and make them feel bad for them. And that is what’s fucked up about Calum.” I explained.   
My blond friend groaned, “I wish you’d stop talking like that. I don’t like to think he stresses me out on purpose.”   
“Okay, Tweek,” I snorted, but soon realized this situation was anything but a joke to Tweek. Feeling sympathy for his position, I wrapped an arm around his shoulders as we stalked down the pavement. “I don’t mean to make you more upset, I just want to look out for you. Relationships shouldn’t feel this impossible.”   
Tweek frowned and laid his head back against my shoulder, “I wish we were like you and Thomas. Or I could just date you. That’d be a lot less fucking nerve-wracking.”   
As he chuckled at his obvious joke, I smiled sadly and nodded. He really had no clue.


	17. Chapter 17

It seemed as though Kyle and Cartman had dropped off the face of the Earth. After the first two periods of the day, we didn’t see them at all, or get any replies to our texts. The rest of us headed over to Stan’s after school, where we had all planned to have a shitty movie marathon. They were banking on the hope that they would arrive later on and explain their situation, but I thought it was unlikely. Cartman and Kyle were either completely avoiding everyone and each other or fighting. Thankfully Stan had seemed to perk back up after insisting whatever he had done was the root cause of Kyle’s brashness.  
“I bet they're finally having sex.” Kenny joked on entering the Marsh’s house, immediately shedding his denim jacket. It had been years since he’d worn his old, orange parka, but I still half-expected him to flick his hood up and completely cover his face as he always had. It was probably a good move for Kenny to show off his handsome features, considering the amount of people who had fallen in love with those dimples.  
Stan scrunched his nose is disgust, “Dude, that’s the last thing I want to picture.”  
Snorting, Kenny plopped himself on the couch and twisted his neck to gaze up at me, “I’m surprised you still wanna hang out with us knowing our mom is angry and our dad is on drugs.”  
Stan blew a raspberry, “Everyone knows I’m the dad. Plus, Craig knows how stupid and awful Cartman is.”  
Kenny reclined on the couch after I took a seat beside him, “Honestly, guys, there’s a lot about him that only I know, since I’m his BFF. He goes through a lot…”  
“But he’s still Cartman,” Stan protested. “I’ve had maybe four serious conversations with him in my life. And I’ve known him all my life. There’s no way he’s been going through something traumatic and serious with only you knowing about it.”  
“Like I said,” Kenny began, wiggling a finger towards his face, “BFF.”  
Sighing, Stan staggered into the kitchen, “I honestly don’t even know if I want to hear anything that would bother someone as fucked up as Cartman. Want anything to drink?”  
Kenny and I informed him that we wanted water, and he returned in a few moments with three bottles. As they discussed which film we should view, I checked my phone and asked Kyle if he was okay over iMessage. I thought I may as well at the very least extend my support, although I was fairly certain he would not respond.  
“Dude, you okay?” Kenny’s inquiry towards Stan pulled me from my thoughts. “Is it the whole Wendy thing?”  
Unaware that there was a Wendy thing on top of everything else going on, I glanced up at Stan to gauge his reaction. He had seemed a bit tense, “It’s not the end of the world, but I guess I’m kinda bummed. I mean, it’s been like, three years. That’s a long ass time.”  
“Not including third and fourth grade,” Kenny added sadly.  
I chimed in, “Woah, wait, you guys broke up? Did that just happen today?”  
Stan nodded in confirmation. “Yeah. Well, sort of. We’ve kind of been on a break for a while, and she really wanted to make it work, but I just couldn’t. We talked for a good hour instead of going to class after Kyle’s freak out session and decided to break up. It’s gonna be really weird, but I’ll be alright.”  
“Yeah, you got us, man.” Kenny assured him, leaning up and grasping his foot affectionately.  
Now that I was searching I could see all the tell-tale signs of Stan being distressed. His smiles were absolutely fake, his eyes were glossy and half-hooded, and his shoulders were slumped as if he hadn’t even had the energy to sit properly. A bit of guilt that I did not ask him what was the matter sooner went through me, but at the same time, he also appeared as though he didn’t want to discuss it.  
Instead we all sat and watched the worst movie any of us had ever seen—Frakenhooker. Apparently rebuilding your girlfriend from exploded hookers was a decent blockbuster idea to someone in 1990. Kenny found it absolutely hysterical, but Stan was still off.  
After the film, Kenny had to go home and watch his little sister, Karen (who was the absolute most important thing in his life. All he did was worry about her and try to give her a better life than their parents did. He even managed to obtain a job at the age of ten to start supporting her). Although Stan and I had never spent time together as just a duo, I sincerely did not want to leave him alone in his state of sadness.  
“Craig, do you drink still?” Stan surprised me with the question after a couple moments of phone-checking silence.  
I lifted my gaze towards him, “I mean, your party was my first and only experience. Why?”  
“I’m gonna get drunk, but it’s more fun if I don’t do it alone.” The brand new member of the single community extrapolated. He then stood and blundered towards the kitchen.  
This was a bit of a confusing situation for me, as the only experience I had had with Stan and alcohol was him getting absolutely livid at Cartman for bringing it to his party. Perhaps he was just nervous about getting busted by his parents. That wouldn’t have happened on that particular night considering Mr. and Mrs. Marsh had traveled to New York to catch a few Broadway musicals.  
I put my weight on my feet and shadowed Stan into the kitchen, whose set-up vaguely resembled every other house in our neighborhood. Watching him tug out a few beers from the fridge and set them beside two bottles of whiskey and a plastic jug of bourbon, I lifted a suspicious eyebrow, “Please tell me you’re not planning on downing all of that.”  
Stan smiled sadistically, “If I’m lucky. Or, if you wanna help.”  
It was obvious what my answer should have been. I should have distinctly remembered being incapacitated for half a day due to the last time I filled my system with the liver-destroying liquid. I should have considered how much it would disappoint my parents if they found out their eldest child was guzzling alcohol to forget his problems with Stan Marsh. I should have thought about how Kyle would definitely kick our asses this time around.  
But, of course, I didn’t. And soon into the hour, the first bottle of whiskey had been drained.  
That warm, dizzy and disoriented feeling swept through my being. I felt light as a feather, as if the wind could sweep me away. It wasn’t necessarily a joyful state of being, but I was definitely relaxed. “Fuck,” Stan announced after a long swig of bourbon. “I haven’ had a drink in ‘bout one whole year. Well, fuck it, anyway.”  
I squinted at him, attempting to make the sight of his face less blurry, “What’d you mean?  
Stan paused to imbibe another huge gulp. The liquid seemed to burn my throat less on the way down the more we drank. He gasped after swallowing then peered back at me, “I used to have what the Kyles and therapists like to call a drinkin’ problem, but I don’ even see what the big deal is, y’know? It jus makes you feel great.”  
“Yeah, man,” I replied in a daze, not even realizing one of my good friends had just confessed that they were an alcoholic to me and that I was allowing them to relapse.  
“You know what’s shitty?” Stan asked, trying and failing to gesture affectively. “Sexuality. That is some bullshit right there.”  
I nodded shortly as it was a bit challenging to move my neck without my head flopping forward. “I hear that.”  
“I always liked girls, y’know? But then all of a sudden, Kenny jus gets all close to my face and I wanna kiss him. Like, what the fuck is that all about?! And then I try to ask my dad what that is and he’s all, ‘Oh, the Japanese are just doing what the Japanese do’,” Stan continued to rant, his voice slurred, “Nobody can jus explain to me why I couldn’ stop thinking about my best friend while I was with a really pretty girl.”  
Even in my drunken state, I felt a great swell of pity for my confused friend. I wouldn’t have had the answer to his desperate question even in my sober state, but more than anything, I wished that we could have had this conversation out of rare form. Stan was hurting so much more than he had ever let on, and it hurt me to know that he needed to drain nearly two huge bottles of alcohol before becoming comfortable enough to talk about what was on his mind.  
“Hey, you won’ tell Ken, will you?” Stan asked, pointing his trembling finger in my direction and squinting one eye.  
“No, it’s a secret.” I promised him lazily, then spat out a question my brain wasn’t able to filter as it normally could have, “So are you gay or just bi—what’s the word?—bicurious.”  
Stan snorted, “I dunno, man. I wish I knew. I wish I knew a lot of things about me that I dunno.”  
“Stan, I’m sorry,” I actually managed to express. “I’m sorry.”  
“Hey, shh, we’re havin’ fun here,” Stan chortled and fell against a wooden chair. “D’you wanna beer?”  
Thoughtlessly I grabbed the blue bottle that was dripping with condensation from Stan. It took us a solid three minutes to try and figure out how to open them, but when we did, they were gone within minutes. Stan seemed pretty impressed with how well I was holding my alcohol down taking into account that it was only my second time ever getting wasted. But, the fun only lasted about two hours or so. Then Mom came home.  
“Stan? Kenny?” A voice called from the adjacent room. I hadn’t heard the door open, but I did hear it shut behind the unnamed person.  
Neither of us had the capacity to panic at that juncture. Instead, Stan slurred out, “Kyle? We’re in kitchen—the kitchen!”  
Shortly after he was addressed, our tall, redheaded friend made it into the kitchen to find us in our intoxicated states with the evidence all around us. His expression changed like a traffic light; first green with horror and sickness, then red with wrath. “Stan,” Kyle was speaking through gritted teeth, “How much did you drink?”  
Stan gave an effortless shrug, “I dunno, maybe two.”  
“Two what?”  
Instead of answering verbally, Stan just snorted and gestured to the empty whiskey and bourbon containers, “But is’okay, Craig helped.”  
My stomach did an unpleasant summersault when Kyle focused his rage-filled eyes on me. I must not have been as drunk as Stan because I was coherent enough to be very intimidated. “You know he’s an alcoholic, right, Craig? And that he uses alcohol as a coping mechanism for his problems and almost fucking died last year?”  
I stared blankly, half scared, half wasted. I wasn’t quite sure what was going on but I knew I didn’t like it. I swallowed heavily and flicked my eyes back to Stan’s blissfully ignorant smile. “I didn’t know.”  
“Of course you didn’t,” Kyle scoffed. “Stan only tells you shit when he’s wasted. Come on,”  
Stan easily gave into Kyle’s attempts to whisk him upstairs. He was babbling on about something as his friend grasped his arms firmly and directed him towards his bedroom. I remained in my chair and enjoyed the swaying my body had decided to do.  
“Alright, Craig, let’s get you home.” Kyle startled me as he swept up from behind me. I watched him clear the kitchen of alcohol-evidence from beneath my drooping eyelids until he bustled over to me and collected my arm in his. “I hope you can manage to walk up the street.”  
I did manage, but that was only due to the support from Kyle’s sober self. It was cold, but I still felt dreadfully warm and buzzing. When we reached my house, I had not yet even reflected upon how far my mother would fly off the handle if I showed up at her house drunk off my ass.  
“Act sick,” Kyle ordered me as he knocked his knuckles three times against the door.  
“I can’t,” I told him with a short giggle. But, Kyle made it quite easy for me to feel queasy when he let out a frustrated sigh and turned to me, giving me a healthy punch right into my gut. I let out a loud ouff and doubled forward.  
Shortly after, the front door to my house was pulled ajar by my tall, balding, ginger father. I gazed up at his perplexed expression through the jet black bangs that fell in front of my eyes. As soon as Kyle opened his mouth to explain that I was ill, I proved his point when bile crept up my through rapidly then poured out of my mouth, just between my own and my father’s feet.  
“Uhh, well,” Kyle went on as Dad gawked unhappily at the vomit that splashed onto his bare toes, “As you can see, Craig got pretty sick when we were hanging out and I didn’t want him to walk home alone.”  
“Sorry, dad,” I mumbled miserably as I instantly felt less happy-drunk.  
“Ugh—it’s alright, son. Thanks, Kyle.” Dad assured us and nodded at my friend. I muttered a thanks to Kyle as well before Dad guided me into the house and then to the toilet, where I disgustingly coughed up the bag of Doritos I had eaten earlier with all the alcohol Stan and I drank together.  
“What happened?!” Mom exclaimed from behind Dad in the doorway of the toilet. It was a bit awkward knowing that he was standing their watching me puke my guts out, but I suppose only being able to stumble around was cause for supervision.  
Dad explained, “Craig got sick at a friend’s house. He must have eaten ice cream or something.”  
Yes, I thought, ice cream. That’s what we’re going with.


	18. Chapter 18

The person I was dreading to face most at school the following day was Kyle himself. After realizing the gravity of what I had done and yet again lied about to my parents, I was sure to receive one of his long-winded speeches right along with Stan. I was actually ready to be yelled at and scolded. I felt horribly remorseful, even though I genuinely had no clue Stan was struggling with alcohol addiction.   
However, I should have been much more afraid to face my boyfriend.   
Unaware of how I even managed to stand up with my head pounding from my hangover, I made my way over to Thomas’ locker and leaned against the neighboring one. I let out a long groan before glancing over at him, “Morning.” He didn’t reply. In fact, he didn’t even acknowledge my existence. Thomas only kept right on rummaging through his locker for something.   
I knit my eyebrows together and twisted my body to face him, “Are you mad at me?” Thomas merely shrugged in response, although the anger coloring his cheeks was as plain as the nose on his face.   
I huffed forlornly, “Did Kyle tell you about last night? I know, it was a mistake—“   
“I just don’t understand, Craig,” Thomas interjected. “That’s all. I don’t understand.”   
This response was much worse than irritation. Disappointment was a scarring wound compared to anger, which was merely a stinging cut. I shifted uncomfortably where I stood, “Well, uh… What don’t you understand?”   
Before answering, Thomas shut his locker and calmly replaced his lock where it belonged. Refusing to meet my gaze with his big brown eyes, he looked up to the ceiling, “I don’t understand why you feel the need to go and get drunk, or go and complain about your best friend’s boyfriend constantly, or just—just be so unhappy when you’re dating me. I mean, honestly, if you don’t like me as much as I like you, that’s fine. But God, just tell me, and stop lying about it.”   
With that, Thomas headed down the corridor and on his way to first period. I was completely speechless and even more so guilty. Why did it only then occur to me how my actions must constantly affect Thomas? Why was I acting like such a douchebag? My self-loathing session would just have to wait, however. As I habitually approached Tweek and Calum at Tweek’s locker, I was immediately met with another altercation between boyfriends.   
“—and I was just trying to help you! Your mom told me specifically to tell her if you felt like that!” Tweek’s explanation was the first I heard. My heart dropped when I saw tears welling in his eyes. “I don’t get why you’re so pissed!”   
“Because I thought I could trust you! But, obviously, I can’t, so what’s the point in even telling you anything?!” Calum spat back venomously, making me desperately wish I knew what was going on.   
Tweek’s rebuttal caused me to experience a surge of pride, however, “Why do you always fucking do this to me?! I was just trying to help, and you’re treating me like shit!”   
“You know what?” Calum scoffed, dropping his voice and throwing his hands up. “We’re done.”   
Calum repeated the last phrase before he scurried off down the hall, followed by a friend of his that had also been spectating the argument, and left Tweek in the same position. His expression had transformed from anger to anguish in a split second and the tears began to freefall.   
“Tweek,” I tried in a calm voice, stepping in his direction. To my surprise, he turned towards me and collapsed against my shoulder, sobbing in an alarming sort of way. I held him tightly and felt like crying myself. First period hadn’t even started and it was such a stress-producing day. “It’s okay, man. What happened?”   
The crying blond made a sincere attempt to explain the situation, but before he could even get a coherent sentence out, we were approached by a concerned-looking teacher. I recognized her as one of the nicer ladies in the building. “Oh, Tweek,” she sighed and carefully placed a hand on his back, “What’s wrong, sweetie?”   
Tweek shook his head and rubbed beneath his eyes, “I-I’m okay.”   
The tall, blonde teacher was not apt to believe him. She said, “Come one, I’ll take you to the consular. You can talk to her for a while, until you calm down. How’s that?”   
Miserably, he nodded his head. The woman shot me a weak smile before escorting the shivering and sobbing Tweek to the office. With a long sigh, I headed towards first period with my hands shoved in my pockets. On entering homeroom, my stomach dropped as I immediately made eye contact with Kyle, who glared at me like he wanted to rip my throat out. But almost worse was the fact that Kenny was giving me a similar glare. This was the second group of friends that I would be losing this year. Actually, it would be just this semester.   
I took my seat adjacent to Tweek’s empty desk anyway and pretended like no one was staring a hole into the back of my skull. I wondered if I could make anyone else important to me furious with me while I was at it. Maybe my grandma should have been informed that I was a selfish piece of shit, too.   
Thankfully, Stan seemed to not blame me. Halfway through the fifteen minute bell, he slid into the vacant seat beside me. His shaggy black hair was even messier than usual, sunglasses covering his eyes, and his complexion pallor. I felt disgusted with myself nonetheless when I saw the dullness and redness of his usually bright blue eyes when he tipped his sunglasses downward to squint at me. Stan didn’t seem to notice this change about himself, however, “Hey, what’s going on with Tweek and Calum? Bebe said they broke up,”  
“I actually don’t even know,” I revealed. “They got in a fight about something Tweek told his mom and then Calum broke up with him.”   
“Oh, god,” Stan winced. “That must’ve been brutal.”   
“Yeah.” I assured him with a heavy sigh.   
A few awkward moments passed before Stan reeled in closer, “Kyle and Kenny aren’t mad at you, by the way. They’re pissed at me.”   
I lifted an eyebrow, “Why not me? I’m the one who let you do it.”   
Stan smiled sadly and shook his head from side to side, which instantly made him dizzy, “First of all, you didn’t know. But, I promised them that I’d never touch alcohol again, and it had been a full year since everything happened. I think they’re just disappointed more than anything.”   
Disappointed. That seemed to be the depressing word of the day.   
_  
It was lunchtime before Tweek came out of the consoler’s. This meant he was having the biggest panic attack known to mankind, or he was getting very personal with the school therapist. Thankfully Stan was right about Kyle and Kenny not being angry with me. We all sat at the same lunch table—Thomas included—but still, nobody said much. Not even Cartman had many snide comments to rile everyone up.   
The consuming silence became a bit much for me to handle. I considered announcing that I was going to buy a water bottle, but I didn’t think that anyone would care or want to be notified as to where I was headed. I pushed myself up from the table and made my way across the cafeteria. Unluckily enough, Calum was about two people ahead of me in line—still selling his sob-story to gullible girls.   
“I just don’t understand why he would think that’s okay… I mean, I trusted him,” came from Calum’s lying mouth as I eavesdropped. “And then we were fighting about it at school today he—he shoved me. Like, full out pushed me. I was so scared.”   
After everything that was going on, my fuse was very short. My teeth grinding against each other, I passed the two people who were the only distance from Calum and myself. He was a good few inches shorter than me, which gave me an edge despite the fact that he was in much better shape than me. “If you don’t stop spreading bullshit lies, then I will full out push you on your ass, Mitchell.”   
Caught off guard slightly, Calum scrunched his eyebrows together and continued to wear his victim façade proudly, “I don’t know what your problem is, Tucker, but you weren’t even there. What the fuck do you know?”   
“You’re the one with the fucking problem, man,” I corrected nastily. “And actually, I was there. Tweek didn’t push you. He’s never laid a finger on you.”   
Calum folded his arms over his chest, “I guess you just don’t know him like I do. He can get so mad that he just can’t control himself. You can’t just assume you know what goes on behind closed doors, Tucker.”   
“Oh, shit, I forgot—it was actually you that’s been best friends with Tweek for, like, thirteen years, not me! Just because you’ve kissed him more doesn’t mean you know him like I do. And I know he would never hurt you, or anyone,” I spat back at him, enjoying far too thoroughly as the confidence oozed out of him. “You’re pathetic.”   
With finality, I cut in front of him with a water bottle and handed the lunch lady a dollar. I trudged back to my table and I slumped into my previous position, brimming with news of what had just happened and the disgusting lie that Calum was attempting to fool everyone with. But, when I glanced back at Thomas, I realized that Tweek was definitely the last subject he wanted to hear about.   
It seems so unfair how quickly it takes life to completely unravel compared to the extensive amount of time it takes to build yourself back up and make things okay again. For every good day there’s fourteen awful ones. So many petty things felt like heavy stones, weighing me down wherever I went. No matter how hard I tried, or how little I try, there was always another barrier keeping me from feeling okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey ladies and gays, looking back on this shit I realize how unrealistic Tweek and Calums interactions seem, so I would just like to assure everyone that their relationship is based completely off of mine and ex-girlfriends and everything Calum has done to Tweek she did to me... just felt like that was important to share  
> thank you so much for reading so far everyone!


	19. Chapter 19

“You know, smoking-induced lung cancer is the leading cause of preventable deaths in the United States,” Kenny informed me as we stood behind the school, a cigarette burning between his lips.   
I snorted at the irony of his statement, cocking an eyebrow and glancing over to find his humorous smirk. We were waiting outside for Kyle to finish up at his debate club meaning. “Then why do you smoke?”   
“Well, I started when I was twelve,” He answered, honey brown eyes watching the smoke rise from between his fingers. “It’s not like I couldn’t stop, y’know? I feel like I could put down the habit, but I also feel like I’d absentmindedly start again. Like, forget I tried to stop.” My expression shifted as he continued. “I think some things are just like that. You get so used to something, or someone, and you just can’t help but keep doing it or loving it or thinking about it just ‘cause it’s what you do. And it’s what you’ve always done.”   
“Yeah…” I wasn’t sure what Kenny was getting at, but somehow it made sense. Even when Kyle came barreling out of the door, I was trying to apply it to myself.   
At that moment, I was doing my best not to worry about Tweek. I had only seen him for a short moment between classes that and we didn’t have an opportunity to discuss the situation. All I knew for sure is that he didn’t come out of the consoler’s office until after fifth period and that he tried to go into class but emotionally couldn’t handle it. He wasn’t replying to my text messages, either. On top of all this, I still had my boyfriend’s discomfort about my situation with Tweek fresh in my mind, and I was attempting to shove that rush of emotions aside. It was a lot of inner turmoil that I usually don’t experience considering Thomas and Tweek are the only two people I’ve really cared about in a romantic sense.   
“Alright, I’m ready to complain,” was the first thing the fussy redhead said before we started ambling down the road. “I’m not over it, I’m still pissed, but I’m ready to talk.”   
Kenny threw an arm around his shoulders, “What’s pissing you off this time, baby?”   
“Cartman and Stan,” Kyle revealed unsurprisingly. “Guys, I just don’t know what to do. Those two have got to stop with the drugs and the alcohol!”  
“Kyle, do you want to know what I really and truly think about this situation?” Kenny asked, piquing my curiosity a bit more than Kyle’s tangent.   
“What?” he asked, watching Kenny’s exhausted cigarette fall to the pavement.   
Kenny granted him a sincere smile, “You have got to stop putting so much pressure on yourself to take care of those two. I’m not saying stop caring, or stop trying to steer them in the right direction, but you have got to stop letting it torture you, man,”   
Clearly, Kyle was taken back by the advice. He took his time to gather his thoughts before responding, “If I don’t stop them, then who’s going to, though?”   
We stopped for a car to pass before crossing the street. We were heading over to Cartman’s house to hang out with the rest of the group, something I agreed to after Thomas turned down my offer to come over and comfort him while he wasn’t feeling well. He had missed the second half of school that day due to a fever. Kenny stashed his hands in the pocket of his jacket, “Maybe they won’t stop. We need to look out for them and let them know what they’re doing is dumb, but you gotta not blame yourself if they don’t listen to you.”   
Kyle’s fighting spirit seemed to be completely extinguished by this argument, “I get what you’re saying, Ken. But, to be honest, you weren’t the one who found Stan half fucking dead from mixing alcohol and his depression meds. I was. Thanks for trying to look out for me, but seeing that has fucked me up beyond repair, and all this stupid shit that those two are doing puts me right back in that place.”  
I felt very much that I was intruding on a private conversation, but the more I learned about Stan, the sadder his story seemed. Then I knew that he not only was a recovering alcohol who had a likely unrequited crush on his best friend, but also that he was clinically depressed and almost died at least once. I didn’t even know if it was intentional or not. I was certainly feeling a lot less sorry for myself in comparison to everything these friends had been through together.  
Kenny frowned at him, “I’m sorry, Ky, I know.” A few quiet moments passed between our trio before Kenny began a slightly different train of thought, “You never told me what happened with Eric, by the way. Y’know, after you publicly scolded him,”   
Kyle sighed sheepishly, “If I tell you, you can’t judge me.”   
Kenny and I gave him a reassuring nod, and I had half a thought that he would finally admit he and Cartman were in love and passionately united. Instead he said, “He followed me outside and I just sat there and cried. I don’t know why, it was just all I could do after being so pissed off. And very surprisingly, Cartman just sat there with me. He didn’t make fun of me or say a word until I was done, then he just asked me if we could get some lunch together. He actually talk to me about what was going on a little bit, and then we just tried to have some fun. Sober fun, thankfully,”   
A mocking gasp came from Kenny’s mouth, “You mean you skipped?!”   
Kyle waved off his reaction, “It is a one-time thing! Plus, I apparently made everyone so afraid of me when I was mad and yelling, I couldn’t ruin it with my periodic sadness.”   
“Dude, you were so fucking terrifying,” I added, shuddering at the thought of an angry Kyle.   
Kyle rolled his eyes. At that point, we had almost made it to our destination, which made me grateful as I had begun to shiver from the nippy air. He replied, “I don’t mean to be so rude, I was just really mad.”   
“It’s not that you’re rude, it’s just your overwhelming mom energy. We just all feel like we’ll get grounded if we cross you.” I amended, pleased to coax a laugh from him.   
Kenny was giggling before he chimed in, “Kyle would never ground anyone,” he reached across me to pitch Kyle’s cheek, “He’s a big softy.”   
Kyle reflexively threw Kenny’s arm away and pinned him with a mock scowl, “Keep touching my face and we’ll see what happens.”   
My blond friend laughed off the threat before returning to the essence of the conversation, “Well, I hope you shocked Eric into submission. I just hate seeing you so down and upset about them. At the same time, though… I’m a little offended you don’t fight this hard to get me to stop smoking.”   
“Whatever, that’d be like trying to get you to give up porn.” Came Kyle’s retort.  
“A complete lost cause,” Kenny agreed with a chuckle. I was relieved that the conversation steered to a less eerie mood on approaching Cartman’s house. Kyle tested the knob to see if it had been left unlocked, then pulled the door ajar for Kenny and me to enter first.   
“’Sup, Kyley,” Cartman greeted in attempts to be nonchalant, completely aware of the thin ice he was on with his temperamental friend.   
Kenny granted him a mock frown, “Do I not get a ‘sup, babe?”   
“’Sup, po’ boy.”   
Winking, Kenny flung himself beside Stan on the couch and kicked his legs up over his thighs. Stan instantly tensed and stowed his gaze directly ahead. I wished I had the confidence to bring this whole topic up to Stan, but I felt very guilty about the situation in general as it was, not to mention super awkward. Knowing his confused feelings for Kenny and Wendy (or boys and girls in general) only because he was out of his mind drunk when he told me made me feel as though I have encroached on his secrets and extremely personal challenges. I was fairly certain not even Kyle knew that Kenny was partially the reason Stan’s relationship ended after multiple years.   
“Dude, has Tweek responded to you yet?” Stan addressed me with a raised eyebrow. I was hoping that this topic would not arise, but it was definitely news in the intricate social atmosphere of the South Park sophomore class. “Calum’s been posting shit on Facebook about it, like, all day. Like, text posts about betrayal and being cheated on.”  
“Fuckin’ butthole,” Cartman muttered to himself.   
I nodded in agreement, “Tweek hasn’t even read my messages. I’m just worried, really. He doesn’t take anything well, let alone this kind of thing.”   
“I still don’t get why it’s such a big deal,” Cartman voiced his unwanted opinion yet again. “I mean, we’re in fucking high school. It wasn’t like they were actually going to get married anyway. All they did was fight anyway, what are they even going to miss?”   
Everyone threw him an annoyed glare, but I spoke up, “I got this one guys, I’m gay,” after a few chuckles from the guys I continued, “Believe it or not, Tweek likes Calum, and doesn’t like to see him sad or upset. So, getting in a fight and breaking up with him really made him sad.”  
“Okay, I’m not a five year old boy, I understand relationships,” Cartman retorted, earning a disbelieving Ha from Kyle. “Shut up, Kyle. I’m just saying, Tweek is acting like this is the total end of the world. Stan and Wendy just broke up, and you don’t see him skipping school and crying over it.”   
Stan hummed, “It’s kind of a different situation, man.”   
“Yeah, Stan broke up with Wendy for me, Eric.” Kenny teased, giving Stan’s upper thigh a playful squeeze. “Right, honey?”   
I watched wide-eyed as Stan almost immediately jolted to his feet, causing Kenny’s hand to fling off of him. “S-Sorry, gotta pee,”   
Kyle and Cartman exchanged looks before peering over at the equally confused Kenny in unison. The blond kid sat up and leaned forward, watching to make sure Stan had officially disappeared into the restroom before he asked, “Okay, is he acting super weird me? Like, for a couple of days now?”  
Deciding it was best to steer completely clear of this conversation, I pulled out my iPhone and let myself stare at the unanswered messages from Tweek and Thomas. Kyle answered, “Uh, yeah, sort of… did you do something?”   
“Nothing!” Kenny assured defensively. “It’s like I can’t joke with him anymore, though.”  
Cartman shrugged, “He’s been having a shitty couple of days. Maybe he just doesn’t want you all up in his face right now.”  
Kenny pouted a lip, “But I love being all up in his face… I’m just gonna talk to him later.”  
When Stan reentered the room, the five of us began to discuss lighter topics, much to my relief. I had quite enough heart-to-hearts and drama for the week; however, the drama was not finished with me yet.   
Not even an hour into hanging out with the guys, my phone vibrated in the front pocket of my baggy black jeans. A combination of muscle memory and the expectation for either my sick boyfriend to assure me that he didn’t miss school simply to avoid me or my best friend to let me know he hadn’t decided to kill himself yet. It was Tweek’s picture that lit up my iPhone’s screen, notifying me of a call. Swiftly, I hit reply and pressed the device to my ear, “Tweek?”   
“Hey,” came his voice weakly from the other line. I instantly knew he was drained from all he had been through. “I’m sorry about not really talking to you today. I hope I didn’t worry you.”   
“Just a bit more than usual,” I replied.   
Tweek let out a soft chuckle, “Are you doing anything right now?”   
I glanced over my shoulder to find four pairs of eyes glued to me. Pointing my middle finger up at my nosy friends, I replied, “I’m just with the guys. Do you want to come over here with us?”   
“No offense, but I just kind of need to be either alone or with you today,” Tweek revealed, making my stomach feel heavy. “But if you’re busy it’s okay.”  
“I’ll be over soon.” I promised him.   
Tweek sighed softly, “Okay… Thank you.”   
After disconnecting the call, I peered back over to Cartman, Kyle, Kenny, and Stan. Cartman was the first to ask, “Is he suicidal?”   
I deflected his irritating comment with another middle finger pointed at him and instead addressed Stan and Kenny. “I’m just going to go over and make sure he’s alright.” They nodded in agreement and smiled at me sympathetically.   
“Go get your cigarette, Craig.” Kenny told me with a particularly knowing grin. The rest of the boys pinned him with strange looks, but I knew exactly what he meant.   
_  
The journey was short and cold. I made it to Tweek’s house in record time, where Mrs. Tweak offered her son and I coffee and gained a sorrowful expression when we both politely declined. Tweek didn’t open his mouth or offer any kind of introduction until we climbed every stair and made it into his bedroom.   
Tweek’s room was one of my favorite places to be. Up until middle school it was an incessant disaster. Rouge Legos were scattered across the carpet along with other various toys, candy wrappers, water bottle lids, pencils of all colors, discarded clothing, and much more. I spent a majority of my childhood there, doing virtually anything from playing ‘dinosaurs’ to attempting to make our own version of Chimpokomon. His bed spread had changed over the years, and then his duvet comforter was teal blue with white sheets. Anytime I stepped foot across his doorway, I was accosted by that scent that was specific to Tweek and covered his body and all of his clothing. There was nothing to equate it to; it was just Tweek. And coffee, of course.   
I set my book-bag down on entering and he trudged towards his bed. Tweek combed his fingers through his hair roughly, but thankfully showed no signs of intending to pull it out. He simply huffed deeply and announced, “You were right, Craig.”   
Reading the exasperation on his face, I could feel my own expression falling with his. I dropped myself onto the empty space of mattress beside him, “I wish I wasn’t right, Tweekers. I’m sorry.”   
He shrugged, “I just don’t even know how to feel right now. I can’t believe he would tell people I… I abuse him. I-I mean, I gave everything I had to him, and I mean everything. I almost lost my best friends for him, I dedicated all my time to him, I told him how much I loved him on a daily basis, I did whatever I could to make him feel okay about himself, I-I—“   
“Tweek,” I interrupted in a soothing tone, placing my hands on his shoulders an angling his body towards me. “Breath, dude. It’s okay. Nobody believes him.”   
“I don’t care if people believe him! I care that’s he’s trying to get people to believe that! I thought he loved me! He told me he loved me,” Tweek sniffled, and I was nervous that he’d begin crying again. “I’m just… I feel empty, Craig. I feel like he just came in and smashed everything inside of me then left and tried to get other people on his side.”   
“Shit, I’m sorry, Tweek,” I promised him, throwing an arm around his shoulders and pulling him against me. Ignoring how well our bodies slotted together, I shut my eyes as he pressed his nose to my neck.   
“What do I even do, Craig?”   
That was a delicate question. I could have told him to block the piece of shit on every social media account he owns (or just go for the full restraining order), or to just try and move on, or to let me beat the shit out of him. Instead I verbalized something different after careful yet brief consideration, “I can’t tell you what to do, Tweek. I have no idea how you must be feeling right now. But I do know that you’re going to be okay with or without him.”   
Tweek sat upright and shifted his gaze towards me, a sad yet somewhat determined smile stretching his lips. “You know what, Craig, yeah. I am going to be okay without him. If Calum actually loved me, he wouldn’t fucking tell people that I hit him! You do know I’ve never done that, though, right? I never even pushed him,”   
I snorted, “I know, Tweek, I went off on him when I heard it. I know you’d never do that.”   
Tweek rubbed his pointy nose and peered down at his clothing-strewn carpet. Guilt was beginning to boil inside of me as all my thoughts revolved around Tweek sitting so close to me and how incredible it felt. Kenny’s words echoed in my ears: ‘You get so used to something, or someone, and you just can’t help but keep doing it or loving it or thinking about it just ‘cause it’s what you do. And it’s what you’ve always done’. All I wanted to do was kiss his frown away and let him know that I’ve genuinely loved and appreciated him from the beginning.  
As he began to speak, I was thankfully pulled from these somewhat disloyal thoughts. However, this was only to be dragged right back into the deep end, “Thank you, Craig…” Tweek started in a vaguely unsure voice, “You’ve never made me feel like this.”   
The eye contact we made had such a more daunting effect on me. I felt this pressure in my chest to make Tweek feel wanted and reassured in any way I could as well as this selfish desire to be the one to treat him right and raise his spirits. I swallowed, his bright green eyes like spotlights, “Well, I’m not a dick to you.”   
Tweek cracked a smile, “Key phrase, to me,”   
We shared a chuckle and he set his head on my shoulder. Our thighs were pressed together and my head was spinning. I should not have been thinking about Tweek in that way anymore, but I couldn’t stop my heart from fluttering harshly in my chest and my brain from screaming at me to lean in and press my lips against his.   
“Do you remember when you spent the night one night and I kissed your cheek and you freaked out because you didn’t know what gay was?” Tweek asked after a short spout of silence.   
I puffed a laugh with him, “Yeah, ‘cause we were, like, seven.”   
Tweek curled into me as he giggled. He sputtered, “And now you’re way gayer than I am,”   
“What?!” I challenged with a fake scoff, “You’re the one with the long-term boyfriend and the big butt.”   
“What?!” He mocked me, “I do not have a big butt. Neither do you, though, you have no butt.”   
“Thanks, asshole,”   
“I’m sorry, it’s just true!” Tweek chuckled before pushing himself to his feet and craning his head around to examine his own ass. I was cracking up as he attempted to scrutinize himself without a mirror. “Okay, I do not, and even if I did, you’d still be gayer than me.”   
I shook my head, “Nope. You’re way more obvious when you think a dude is hot.”   
Tweek protested, “What?! No I’m not! And you’re so obvious, don’t even start.”   
I cocked an eyebrow, very willing to accept this challenge, “I’m the least obvious person when it comes to crushes. You have the most noticeable signs. You fidget and turn red and stare at them and shake.”   
“Okay, I do that anyway,” He assured me, “But you are so obvious, don’t even deny it. I can tell when you like someone.”   
Before I could stop myself, I spewed a rebuttal that was definitely a bit too close to home, “I could have been in love with you for years by now and you still would have never known.”   
Tweek’s mouth formed a rare smile, and his shrugged, “Well, are you?”   
Considering my first instinct was to confess to him that I’ve had feelings for him since before I even knew what they were, I had to either lie to him or play it off as a joke. I couldn’t exactly tell my best friend that I still stupidly loved him while I was dating Thomas. To be frank, it was a bit odd to me that Tweek was acting this way towards me right after a break-up. I took the best bet; I winked facetiously and said, “You know it.”   
Although we both decided to leave the subject behind as a joke, I couldn’t help but hold onto that moment and feel something even stronger stirring inside of me for Tweek. I wanted punch myself in the face for putting myself through this all over again when I had Thomas, who happened to be a perfectly amazing boyfriend who had actual, tangible feelings for me. Why couldn’t I feel this deep, soul-scraping feeling for him? Kenny was definitely right. You can’t just stop loving someone because you want to. You’ll always end up going back to it somehow, or forgetting you even tried to stop yourself. Because it’s what you do. For me, that was my best friend.


	20. Chapter 20

“I can’t believe there’s only two fun things to do in South Park,” Tweek groaned as we tried to figure out what to do. After another hour of ranting about Calum and all he had been through the past couple of months, I learned that he and Calum had actually begun talking again over the summer, which I did not love to hear. He also gave me multiple examples of how Calum was much more toxic than I thought, including the fact that he routinely read Tweek’s diary, something that was given to him by his therapist to help him cope with his anxiety. He was supposed to inscribe whatever he was feeling anxious about and commit to leaving it behind on the page as much as possible. Calum would force him to hand it over every morning so he could investigate. He did the same with his Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, and Tumblr, demanding full access to all of his accounts at all times. Tweek also relayed a particularly infuriating anecdote of a movie date he had with Calum. While they were holding hands, Calum noticed a girl behind him that he had a crush, told Tweek that his crush was behind them, and asked him not to engage in PDA with him for the remainder of their time. I was so proud of myself for keeping my cool and just listening when I really wanted to hunt him down and stab him.  
“We could always just take a walk,” I suggested an activity that we occasionally took part in together as something that calmed Tweek’s nerves and got my lazy ass out of the house.  
Tweek considered this option, audibly humming as he thought. I fought a grin at how cute he behaved. He counter-offered, “What if we took a drive somewhere?”  
I pinned him with an extraordinarily surprised expression. “You’re kidding, right?”  
“No!” Tweek shot back and stood to his feet, “I’ve been feeling so trapped and anxious in this place for so long, I just want to be like… and hour away! I want to feel actual separation from this stupid, shitty situation… what, am I being crazy?”  
He must have thought that because I was indeed looking at him like he was crazy. “No, no, I’m just very surprised you want to steal one of our parent’s cars and drive away from town without a license.”  
Considering the gravity of his suggestion, he faltered, “Yeah, you’re right, let’s just take a walk.”  
I let out a soft chuckle and joined him upright. I eyed him as he simultaneously strode over to his closet and pulled off his t-shirt. In the moment it was hard to remember how creepy it was to stare at one’s shirtless best friend, but I couldn’t help it. Watching him struggle into a long sleeve shirt and then a thick sweater over it, my guilty conscious again reminded me of my boyfriend. It felt so wrong to continuously think of Tweek the way I did, but how could I stop when he was so soft and adorable in his baggy sweater and loose-fitting jeans?  
“Craig?” He asked, “You okay?”  
I cleared my throat, effectively snapped from my trance, “Yeah, m’fine.”  
Tweek didn’t seem fully convinced, but led me out of the room nonetheless. As we made our way down the creaky steps he told me, “I’m gonna get myself a water. Want anything?”  
I asked for water also, somewhat surprised that he would not be engaging in a coffee re-fill. I waited by the door and checked for any messages from Thomas—nothing had been said after he let me know he was taking a nap. I had an increasing certainly and sinking feeling that he would be avoiding contact with me for the foreseeable future. When I noticed Tweek coming back to meet me I slid my phone into my back pocket.  
“Let’s go,” Tweek sputtered, quickly opening and exiting the front door. I furrowed my eyebrows when I heard the familiar jingling of a set of keys.  
I crossed the threshold and pulled the door closed, but remained glued to the entryway. “What are you doing?”  
Tweek granted me a nervous glare, “I said let’s go!” I tossed my hands up in mock submission and followed him to the driveway. “We gotta go,”  
I watched in complete and utter shock as he unlocked his mother’s Toyota Corolla and climbed into the driver’s seat. My jaw actually fell, “What the hell are you doing?”  
“Get in the goddamn car, Craig! You can hear the beeping noise from the dining room and my parents are in there!”  
There wasn’t much to argue after that, and frankly Tweek’s tone was threatening and that scared me a bit. Ignoring every logical fiber in my being, I yanked the passenger’s door open and took a seat beside my newly impulsive best friend. Tweek turned the ignition and put the car in reverse with surprising self-assurance. Aware of my extremely uncomfortable state, he granted me a note of confidence, “I’ve been practice driving for the past couple weeks now,”  
Letting the petrified breath I sucked in escape me, I glanced to my right and watched Tweek’s home become smaller as we drove down the road. I was rendered completely speechless and was forced to glance between Tweek focusing on operating the car, my hand clutching the handle on the door tightly, and the trees, buildings, and familiarity of South Park fading away into mountains and hills.  
Regaining my ability to speak, I verbalized my fears quite bluntly, “Tweek, I must ask; have you absolutely lost you mind?”  
Tweek let out a nervous laugh as he gently turned the steering wheel with the curves in the road, “I don’t know, man, it’s like I told you… I just want to get out.”  
I let the fact that Tweek seemed to be a fairly decent driver comfort me. I stole a glance at his hands, and they were firmly grasping the steering wheel, yet rested with relative steadiness. His expression was the calmest I had seen in a good while.  
“Alright, we’ll just drive, then.” I gave into his grand thief auto escape stunt.  
After a few moments of comfortable silence, Tweek asked me something that set me back on edge, “So, how are things with Thomas?”  
Choosing my words carefully, I replied, “I don’t know anymore… it seems like we’re kind of drifting.”  
Tweek peered over, his expression an odd combination of surprised and unbothered, “Oh, really? How come?”  
“Well, to be honest…” I paused, wanting more than anything to tell him and further hint around my feelings for him.  
“What?” Tweek encouraged me to continue, “Talk to me, man, you know you can tell me anything.”  
I let out a sigh, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. “He thinks that I have a thing for you and that I’m not really interested in him.”  
“Oh… I-I’m sorry, Craig, I know I can be a handful—“  
“No, no,” I interrupted him, “It’s not anything you did, it’s just that we’re so close. It probably has more to do with me being, you know… Me,”  
Tweek chuckled softly, “What, super monotone and boring?”  
I threw him a glare before he let out a louder laugh to let me know it was a joke. I returned to the topic he brought up, “Anyways, I have a feeling we’re not going be together much longer.”  
“Well, what do you want?” he inquired.  
If only I could be completely honest. I would tell him right there that he was all I wanted. I wanted to let Thomas down the easiest way possible and let myself fall so deeply in love with him and finally taste the lips I had been fantasizing about and embrace him in a non-platonic manner and breathe in the smell of his coffee-scented self forever.  
All of a sudden, I felt like crying. My chest tightened and my eyes felt heavy. I cast my gaze away from Tweek’s questioning face and let my shoulders shrug, “I have no idea.”  
My stomach churned when I felt fingers press against mine. Tweek laced our fingers together and gave me a supportive squeeze. I probably should have told the novice driver to put both hands on the wheel, but I allowed myself to admire the way our hands fit together and his warmth burning into my skin. I couldn’t decide if the gesture made me want to cry more or less.  
“Hey, did I tell you about Clyde spilling paint-water all over Bebe in our art class?” Tweek asked, sensing that it was best to change the subject.  
I snapped my head back into his direction, “Dude, how could you keep something like that from me?”  
He could not stop laughing hard enough to actually relay what happened for a solid minute, but when he finally composed himself it was so worth it: “Okay, okay, so he goes to show her his painting that we had been working on for an assignment, and she touches it not knowing it wasn’t dry yet. So she’s all, ‘Oh man, I’m so sorry’ and he’s like, ‘Pfft, don’t worry about it, gorgeous’, and when he reached to take it back, he pretty much punched the cup right onto her. Like, all over her shirt and pants and everything, and his painting!”  
I chuckled heartily at Tweek’s impression of Clyde and the story itself. “Jesus, I miss making fun of that idiot.”  
Tweek sighed, “Yeah, me too. I still just want to tell him that Bebe is not the slightest bit interested in him. Or, for her to tell him once and for all.”  
“She’s way too nice for that. Or, she just enjoys having someone hopelessly in love with her,” I suggested.  
When we made it to a clearing, Tweek decided to pull over, half on the shoulder of the road and half in the grass. He put the car in park and let out a huff. “I’m not gonna lie, it just occurred to me how insane this was and I feel some panic coming on… Would you mind driving us back?”  
I immediately became tense at the prospect of having to not only drive underqualified and underprepared, but someone else’s parent’s car, “What?! No! Just turn around, you made it this far!”  
“I don’t know why I made it this far!” Tweek exclaimed, slapping his hands over his face and letting his forehead fall against the steering wheel. “Gah, I’m so stupid!”  
“Stop,” I told him with nervous humor laced into my tone. “You can do it, Tweek.”  
He whipped his head back up to face me and gestured at the dashboard, “I should not be doing anything, I just stole my mom’s car! Oh, god, they’re gonna kill me! This is too much pressure, can you please just—“  
“Tweek,” Before I even knew what I was doing, I shifted my torso and leaned in close to him. I placed a firm but gentle hand to the nape of his neck and guided his wide eyes to meet mine. We stared at one another for a second before I assured him, “You are a really good driver. Just turn around and take us back. If you parents get mad at you, use the sad, gay card.”  
My friend was at a complete loss for words, glancing back and forth between either of my eyes. Eventually, I felt his shoulders fall slightly forward in relief. A small semblance of a grin played across his chapped, heart-shaped lips as he whispered a compliment to me, “You have really nice eyes.”  
I felt the heat rise against my cheeks, my heart pounding harshly to remind me who had just told me they liked my eyes. I thanked God my relatively tan, thanks to my South American grandparents, dulled the color. “So do you,” I managed.  
With a wider smile and a release of breath, he told me, “Alright, I got this.”  
With that, I let go of him and allowed him the freedom he needed to turn the borrowed vehicle around and head back for town. Although it was a really stupid thing to do, his spirit seemed so much freer as we drove the same way from which we had come. We laughed, smiled, talked, joked, and it was the best I had felt in months.  
That night I lay awake, already reminiscing on the time I had just spent with my best friend. It felt so pure and amazing, and it barely had any negative outcomes as Tweek played the sad and gay card to get out of trouble (although his parents were initially furious when we pulled the car back into the driveway). I hugged my pillow tightly with a smile on my face, wishing it was Tweek’s body pressed against mine.  
When I couldn’t fall asleep due to my overwhelming remorse beginning to consume me, I turned over and grabbed my iPhone from the charger. I decided to consult the smartest person I knew, and sent Kyle a text: dude, i’m in so in love with tweek what should i do  
_  
After a long debate with Kyle over text until midnight, we came to the mutual consensus that I should end things with Thomas.  
I felt like an absolute asshole. It’s not exactly that I felt as if I were completely in the wrong for ending the relationship, I just knew I would most likely be losing someone that I actually enjoyed conversing with on a daily basis and had actual romantic feelings towards me. Thomas had taught me so much, and he’d treated me so amazingly. He deserved much more than to be with someone who wasn’t over his best friend.  
Thomas and I had texted the night prior and we had basically made up. Although there were no flirtations or boyfriend talk, we knew that neither was mad at the other. As I ambled through the teenage-infested hallways of the school, I prayed that he would continue to not be upset with me.  
I heavily considered texting him to split up with him but knowing Thomas, he would appreciate the more mature approach. I wasn’t sure how mature of a person I truly was at that point and time, but Thomas deserved a closure in which he felt respected.  
“Hey,” I greeted. When I peered at his face I could quite plainly see that he was not fibbing about being ill. The tip of his nose was red and his eyes were droopy. I pouted my lip, “Are you still sick?”  
“Just a little,” Thomas confirmed in a nasally voice. He smirked, “I sound like you, though.”  
I narrowed my eyes in mock annoyance as he chuckled and secured his locker shut. My stomach began to churn unpleasantly as the realization of what I had to do set into a realistic view. I knew that I couldn’t look him in his big brown eyes and tell him that I didn’t want to date him anymore, so I was having a hard time deciding where I would focus my gaze instead and what words I would use.  
“Craig?” Thomas called my name to obtain my attention. “What’s wrong?”  
I shook my head, “Nothing, sorry. I just need to talk to you about something…”  
“Oh,” He replied, straightening himself up. “What’s up?”  
How the hell did people do this in person? It seemed so easy when Token or Clyde did it over text—like ripping off the Band-Aid without ever having to initiate eye-contact. “Okay, so listen, I, uh… I wanted to talk about, and I want you to know that I really, really like you—“  
“Wait,” Thomas interjected, his expression somewhat knowing. “What is this, Craig? Is this a break up?”  
My heart crawled up my throat, making sure to rattle my lungs on the way up and steal the breath from them. With widened eyes I simply stared at Thomas for a solid ten seconds with no ability to reply. It was as if he was my mother and she had managed to find my illicit stack of pornos, but so much worse. Disappointing Thomas was never something I wanted to do.  
Thomas took my silence as the yes that it was. He cast his eyes away, “I’ll be honest, I saw this coming from a mile away. Especially since Tweek is single now.”  
“That has nothing to do with this.” My defensive natural spat out for me before my truthfulness could tell it to shut the fuck up.  
He scoffed, “Please don’t lie to me on top of this. Just don’t. I mean, I could’ve and probably should’ve ended this a while ago myself, but it’s nice to know for sure I wouldn’t be making a mistake.”  
“Thomas, come on, I care about you. That’s why I’m doing this. You deserve to be with someone who has himself sorted out,” I grasped for redemption with every phrase, but the way Thomas was simply carrying himself told me it was unlikely for me to retrieve it at this point in time.  
“Sorted out?” Thomas repeated, “And by that, of course, you mean someone who isn’t in love with someone else?”  
My heart dropped even further, my eyes also falling to the floor. “I know what I sound like, I just really want us to end on good terms and be friends.”  
Thomas sent me an exasperated glare, “Yeah, I don’t know if I can or want to be your friend. But, hey… I guess we’ll play it by ear. I hope you get to live your wildest dream and fuck Tweek really soon.”  
Shit, I thought as Thomas sent himself off in a marching pace down the corridor. That went a lot worse than I hoped, but not worse than I expected. Peering around me and clutching tightly to the small amount of pride that remained, I shoved my hands in the pocket of my hoodie and shuffled off in the opposite direction.  
I was right back where I had been for such a long time, single and bitter. This time it was a worse kind of bitter. It was the after-bitter of having been in a relationship for the first time and it ending over the one person who had always prevented me from seeking out relationships.  
I wish I could just forget Tweek, but I couldn’t. He’s like nicotine, and I’m hopelessly addicted to him. There were so many reasons why I shouldn’t be, and it frustrated me to no extent that there was no one clear reason as to why I couldn’t move on. There was nothing concrete that I could blame and therefore fix. It was just Tweek—his essence, his being, his existence. Love is such bullshit.  
_  
Storming down the hallway towards me was someone I had not quite expected to lash out at me anytime soon. A sharply dressed Token approached me, clearly vexed about something, “Craig, do you know who the fuck Clyde thinks he is? ‘Cause I sure as hell can’t figure it out.” Token seethed, his teeth gritted together so tightly that I thought they might shatter like extravagant china.  
I cocked an eyebrow, “Other than hot shit, I’ve not clue.”  
Ignoring my hardly humorous remark, Token continued to speak, fists clenching harder as he went on, “He’s been going around telling everyone that Nichole cheated on me and now we both have chlamydia!”  
This news was not exactly funny to me, but it was so typical of Clyde that I had to stifle a laugh, “Seriously?”  
“Yes! He’s lost his damn mind! Normally I wouldn’t care if someone said some stupid shit about me, but people actually believe him! Fifteen different people have asked me if I’m still infected or if I had gotten it taken care of.” The dude barely took a breath between sentences. I hadn’t seen him so heated in years.  
I shrugged my shoulders, “Dude, I really can’t help you on this one. Clyde has barely spoken to me, so it would probably be weird if I told him to do something. But c’mon, this will blow over. Remember when he told everyone that I had four nipples ‘cause he was mad at me? That lasted like, two days before everyone realized he made it up.”  
Token grunted, “I know that, but this time he’s actually trying to hurt me, not just be stupid. It’s just frustrating as hell. What happened to the Clyde that would have pretended he was going to beat someone up for saying this kind of shit about me?”  
“Things change, man.”  
“Yeah,” Token scoffed in agreement. “Way too fast. It’s only two weeks until Christmas break and Clyde’s spreading rumors about me… Three months ago we were like brothers.”  
Token’s expression was wistful, as if he was reminiscing on the days before our group had deteriorated. I had the slight urge to point out the fact that he too cut Tweek and me out of his social agenda, but I felt like it might have been a bad time to pick a potential argument with him considering the clenched fists at his sides.  
Instead, I said as non-sardonically as possible, “It’ll be okay, dude. People won’t care about your penis being fake infected in a week. It’s always something new.”  
Token shot me a small smirk and nodded his head, “Yeah. At least you haven’t changed, Craig. Or at least, your advice hasn’t.”  
“Changing takes too much effort.” I joked.  
He let out a laugh and relaxed his shoulders, “You know man, I think I’m just gonna go right up to Clyde and work this shit out. We’re acting like kids and I really want these stupid rumors about me to stop going around.”  
“Go for it. Don’t expect him not to cry.” I warned.  
“You’re right,” Token chortled, “Thanks, man. You and Tweek should hit me up sometime.”  
“Will do.” I fibbed, knowing full well if we did he’d make up lame excuses as to why he was too busy until I stopped trying. It did make me miss spending time with them, though.  
_  
After an odd kind of emotional day at school, I headed over to Stan’s house with him to wait for the other boys to meet there. Christmas was just around the corner, which elected even colder weather for us in Colorado. Stan and I were both clad in an extra layer of warm garments and he had started wearing beanies daily again. Snowflakes fluttered around us and rushed to join their brothers and sisters in the generous piles on the ground.  
“So, dude,” Stan started, his mildly deep voice raised slightly in order to compensate for the wind blowing against our faces. “Are you okay about the break up with Thomas?”  
“I mean, yeah, I initiated it. I just wish we could be friends still.” I answered, teeth chattering a bit.  
“Why can’t you?” Stan asked innocently enough. However, I wasn’t exactly prepared to delve into the convoluted psychology of my affection towards Tweek.  
“I just really hurt him, I guess.”  
He granted me a vaguely perplexed look, “I don’t know, that just seems kinda shitty to me. Knowing you, I’m sure you didn’t mean to hurt him.”  
“I don’t really blame him,” I reiterated, letting out a sigh that made itself visible in the cold air. “But it’s whatever, y’know, we were only dating for a couple months.”  
My toes thanked all that is holy when they were finally freed from within the confines of my Vans, which were not the epitome of snow attire. The cloth-like material easily became saturated from the snow and moistened my frozen digits. Thankfully, however, Stan’s mother always cranked up the heat despite his dramatic father, Randy’s, protests.  
“Well, anyhow, I’m sorry about it all, man.” Stan assured as he shrugged off the jacket that was previously hidden beneath his heavy coat.  
We migrated to the kitchen in pursuit of Pizza Rolls as the topic shifted to something that I had actually been itching to discuss for a time, but had been too much of myself to actually bring up. Stan took a glance at the counter to find a half-empty bottle of shitty wine sitting there. He instantly tensed up and narrowed his eyes, “Are you fucking kidding me? They said they were done drinking,”  
I bit a lip as I took a seat on a counter stool and Stan stalked over to the bottle, “Maybe they meant hard liquor.”  
“Well, I can’t be around any of it according to my therapist.” He huffed and replaced the glass bottle to a less obvious location in the back of his fridge. I had genuine sympathy for Stan and this problem he had. I had some pretty poor experiences with alcohol, but I couldn’t imagine being addicted to it—to feel like there was a voice in my head of a crick in my neck that would not be satisfied until I drank myself drunk. It must have been so difficult to cope with, especially at such a young age. But he did not see it as something that people should be sorry for, and that was evident when he apologize, “By the way, I’m sorry I drank with you that one night… it was really stupid of me. I had been sober for so long, it was a shitty situation to include you in.”  
I told him, “Seriously, it’s not something you need to apologize for.”  
Stan let out an exasperated sigh, “I just feel guilty. Especially because Kyle ripped me a new asshole the millisecond I sobered up.”  
“He’s truly the epitome of a mom friend.” I commented with vague amusement laced in my tone.  
It seemed like a joke, but Kyle genuinely had matronly qualities. He was easily the most nurturing yet condescending person of the lot. He often texted me to ask how I was doing on my homework or if I had eaten something other than Cool Ranch Doritos, and I was aware of his habit of reminding Kenny to wash his hair. This definitely would have been grating if it were anyone but Kyle, but for some reason, he was allowed. He made it feel sincere when he told you to drink a glass of water every once in a damn while.  
“I also feel shitty about telling you that whole Kenny thing,” Stan continued, scratching at his arm either nervously or absentmindedly. “I would normally just pretend I didn’t know I told you, but it’s driving me crazy. Especially ‘cause I hadn’t even told Kyle about that.”  
My lips curved into a half-frown, “I feel shitty that I know and Kyle doesn’t.”  
Stan waved that thought away, “Hell no, don’t. Kyle might be lowkey annoying about it, anyway. I just wish I knew what to fucking do.”  
Carefully attempting to peel back another layer of the situation and get a sober depiction of what was going on, I inquired, “When did this thing start?”  
The tinge of rosy red against Stan’s cheeks made it very clear how he felt about this situation. I felt a huge swell of empathy for him, especially since I was in the exact same boat. “It, uh, has to be a year or so… I don’t know, for a while Cartman and Kyle always had something to do so it was just me and Kenny hanging out all the time and I just… Something clicked in my head, but I don’t even know what. I just started seeing him in this new, weird, scary way that makes my stomach fucking hurt. But it kind of comes and goes, you know? Like, when I’m not with him it’s a lot easier to convince myself to move on because nothing would ever happen. But when he’s sitting right next to me or he does that Kenny thing where he puts his arm around me, I just… Ugh, this is so stupid,”  
“Seriously, dude, it’s not,” I assured him, desperate for him to continue his train of thought. “I couldn’t fucking relate more.”  
Stan granted me a knowing smirk, “I knew you liked Tweek.”  
I rolled my eyes, wondering at that point if everyone in the goddamn world but Tweek knew. “Yeah, I know, you can tell by the way I look at him. This isn’t about me, though. What do you want to do about this?”  
He groaned, pulling of his beanie and running fingers through his hair, “I almost want to do some second grader shit and have someone tell him and then see what he says to them… Like, just to know for sure, you know? Because right now I’m pretty sure that I don’t have a chance with him, but the possibility has been driving me insane. Like, I seriously thought I was straight until this whole fucking thing happened, it’s so confusing.”  
“Sexuality is the worst, dude.” I nodded.  
Stan shook his head, “I have no clue what the fuck I am. Obviously, the idea of making out with Kenny doesn’t disgust me, but I tried to imagine with, like, Chris Pratt, and I couldn’t get into it. So, is it just fucking Kenny? Like, I don’t get this at all. And it stresses me the fuck out because I have to see his stupid, perfect face all the time. And why did he have to pierce his lip?! Like, he was already fucking hot,”  
Every single word Stan was ranting about surprisingly freely resonated with me so much. I felt the same strain and the same confusion and upset. Although I wish he didn’t understand me, it was in a way comforting to know that someone I’m close to completely comprehending what was festering inside of me on a daily basis. It sucked to be in love with your best friend and not know why or what to do about it.  
“Don’t worry about it,” I advised Stan. “Labels don’t mean shit. If you like a girl, date a girl. If you like Kenny, figure it out. Being gay, straight, bi, or whatever isn’t as important as everyone makes it seem like it is.”  
“Yeah, you’re right, it’s just really confusing…” Stan peered up at me with this lost, perplexed, and vaguely pouting look on his face. “I don’t know why this has to happen with Kenny, man… he’s been right beside me for so long, why does this pop out of nowhere now?”  
I wished I could’ve given him a better answered when I spoke, “Love is bullshit.”  
“Right,” Stan agreed with a long sigh. “But, thanks, Craig. I kind of just randomly started ranting at you but I’ve been bottling this for a fucking year. It feels good to get it out to someone who gets it.”  
I shot him a half grin and nodded my head, “I know what you mean. And don’t worry, I won’t tell Mama Kyle.”  
Stan chucked, “Hopefully he’ll never have to find out I didn’t tell him something about myself for a year. He might have a fucking hernia.”  
We soon changed the subject and scarfed down our Pizza Rolls when they were far too hot for consumption (but they’re Pizza Rolls—it’s against human nature to wait until they’re a reasonable temperature). As good as it feels to verbally get things off your chest it can be a bit too awkward to talk about for yourself. Sometimes it feels just as good to get your mind off of things with videos on Facebook and scorching hot Pizza Rolls.


	21. Chapter 21

“Dude, are you coming over? It’s six now.”

“Oh, shit,” the way he huffed quietly to himself told me he had forgotten. “I’m sorry, Craig, I’m so late.”

Calum and Tweek had been officially broken up for two weeks then, and it was evident that my best friend was completely emotionally destroyed. Usually bouncing around with impeccably high energy, Tweek had been slumping around, only recoiling in fear at half of the scenarios in which he would become anxious in the past. Although I didn’t keep track of the exact amount of time Tweek would spend sleeping, I could tell from the dark circles permanently etched into the skin beneath his pretty green eyes that he was receiving even less rest than his ordinarily unhealthy sleeping schedule.

I shook my head, knowing he could somehow hear my action. This had been the third time we had this conversation in the last week, “Don’t worry about it. I was just seeing what was up.”

“No show again?” Kenny inquired from behind a bite of pizza, although the answer was pretty obvious.  
I exhaled gravely, “Nope.”

The guys and I had been attempting to get Tweek to engage in social activities to take his mind off of things. Myself more so than anyone, that is, but they were a helping hand. Besides Cartman, he was just a dick—very slightly less of a dick as he was still trying to secure a spot on Kyle’s good side, but a dick nonetheless.

“Maybe he just needs some breathing room,” Kyle suggested as he dabbed his hands clean with a napkin. “It might also be us. He isn’t as comfortable with us as you are, or as he is with you. Maybe just try and talk to him one on one.”

As per usual, Kyle’s analysis was more than likely accurate. The problem was I didn’t _want_ to be alone with Tweek. Thoughts of the two of us alone caused my legs to become jelly. I was hopeless for Tweek and there was no describing what inside me transformed the night of his break-up with Calum, but it was significant and I felt a strong combination of panic and mortification because of it. Call it immature or just super gay, I couldn’t bring myself to deal with it.

Instead of divulging my inner turmoil, I shrugged my shoulders and ripped off a large bite of pizza. Thankfully, our group was the only one in South Park still discussing Tweek and Calum’s split. It had become a surprisingly hot topic for a while, and then swiftly became a great source of annoyance. Since everyone was aware of my close affiliation with Tweek, I was interrogated as if I knew the very root of Calum’s thought process when he decided to lie and accuse my best friend of being physically abusive. Only a select few actually believed him. I would never comprehend that, and I was quite frankly tired of thinking about it.

On a different note, I did really miss Tweek and I was worried for him. Stealing his parent’s car and having a great night with me must have been some kind of insane panic high, as he’s been low ever since. I felt a little bad that I hadn’t given him the chance to verbally speak about what had changed. As much as it destroyed me, Tweek adored Calum, and after all of his effort to make things work, he was completely betrayed by him.

“Okay,” Kenny began with a sigh, pushing himself forward on the sofa. He crossed his fingers and peered over at Kyle. “This is me swallowing my pride, Ky. This is me standing before you as a humble man—“

“I am not making you a cheat sheet for exams.” Kyle interrupted him.

“Fuck you.” Kenny groaned simply in reply and cast himself back against the cushion.

Kenny’s inquiry did however remind me of how bad I needed to study. There were four exams that I was on track to absolutely bomb. It’s not that I didn’t try, but my mind was constantly on anything but schoolwork throughout that entire semester. The only time I had even thought about it was when Kyle would help me with math or biology. I had to first dig as deep as I could possibly go within the barren cavern that was my brain and soul and find a solitary ounce of effort to give, and then I had to actually learn the material. Attempting to block the impending tests from my memory was the only means of maintaining my sanity.

I sighed, “Yeah, I should probably study at some point.”

“Kyle’s the only reason I’ve been studying at all.” Stan commented, shaking his head. “It’s just too much pressure, dude.”

“Okay, Tweek,” Kyle snorted. “All you guys have to do is read over the study guides! The teachers are helping out as much as possible.”

“God, you’re such a teacher’s pet. I don’t know about your science teacher, but mine literally said the words, ‘You little assholes are going to have to figure this out on your own’.” Cartman groaned.

“Yeah, see, I didn’t make that up!” Kenny exclaimed, snapping his head back in Kyle’s direction. “See, our teachers aren’t even attempting to be helpful. Cheating is the only option at this point.”

“He’s not wrong, Kyle. There’s just… no other way.” Cartman huffed, removing his hat dramatically. “We have no time.”

The redhead rolled his eyes to the back of his head, “You guys are so fucking lazy, I swear.”

I spoke up, also feeling desperate for an easy way to pass, “I just wish I could actually focus in class. I feel like I could understand at least a quarter of the information if I could pay attention.”

Stan nodded, “I feel that. I don’t know why it’s so much harder this year, but it’s like everything goes in one ear and out through the other.”

“That’s why I take speed.” Cartman chuckled, earning an extreme glare of disapproval from Kyle. His grin deflated. “I mean, I used to…”

This comment made me think back to the beginning of the year when I was offered pills from Cartman. I felt a wave of guilt for actually considering it at this point.

As usual, we all left Stan’s house around nine-thirty, but instead of heading straight home, Kenny tugged on my arm, “Dude, I need to talk to you about something.”

Considering this was the first time he had come to me personally for something, I was readily receptive of his need to get whatever it was off his chest. While the darkness of the cool night impeded my ability to see details properly, I could detect a hint of concern written into his features as he led me down the street.

“Alright, please don’t talk about this with anyone else, because I’m really not sure if I’m right and either way I don’t want it to go around,” The blond took a break in walking and talking to cup a hand around his mouth and protect the flame igniting a cigarette from the wind. “So, lately, Stan’s been acting kinda different around me.”

Of course, I immediately knew where this was going, “Different how?”

Kenny took a drag, seeming to think carefully about his explanation, “I think he, like… likes me. I don’t wanna sound conceited or anything but just the way he’s been acting around me and texting and shit. He drops a hell of a lot of hints. Like, the other day I was fuckin’ around and I was like ‘No, Stan’s mine’, and he was like ‘Yeah, I wish’. Like… I don’t know what to do. Has he said anything to you?”

It was my turn to choose my words carefully. I had to decide whether or not to confirm this information or act completely unaware. I nodded, “I mean, I’ve seen that kind of stuff happening, too.”

Kenny shrugged his shoulders as we slowly trekked along the pavement, heading towards town. I was glancing at the time on my phone every once in a while, to make sure I wouldn’t exceed my curfew. “I just don’t really know what to do. I mean, I fucking love Stan, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t know… I thought he was straight as a fuckin’ arrow until recently.”

“I think he thought he was straight, too.” I snorted.

Kenny twisted his neck to face me, “Craig, I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know what to say to him.”

“So, there’s no way you would date him or anything?” I inquired, a bit hopeful that he wouldn’t be sure. Knowing how badly this could potentially hurt Stan was another disagreeable thought.

“I don’t know, dude… I mean I’m definitely not straight, and Stan’s so fuckin’ cute, and funny, and really talented, and he’s always been so nice…” Kenny trailed off, a smirk curving his lips

I rose an eyebrow, “Holy shit, you like him back.”

“I don’t know...”

“You totally do.”

“I don’t know!” Kenny chuckled as he and flicked the ash off his half-smoked cigarette, “It would destroy me if something fucked up mine and Stan’s friendship, man. He’s my favorite person in the world.”

I shook my head, “I seriously don’t think it would fuck up your friendship. I think you should just go and talk to him about it. Maybe you will even get to sleep with the quarterback.”

“That is a reoccurring wet dream of mine,” He quipped before taking a pause. He breathed in a final, long puff before putting out the cigarette. He replied slowly, “Maybe I’ll just confront him about it soon and see what happens.”

  
“That might be the healthiest thing to do,” I agreed, scuffing my boot against the concrete, “But whatever you decide, you should in the next few seconds because I’m freezing my ass off.”

  
Kenny chuckled, “Same, sorry. Let’s head home. I’ll see you tomorrow, man.”

  
As we headed in different directions, my mind weighed on the situation between my two friends. I envied Kenny’s willingness to simply confront Stan about it and discuss such an untouchable topic. I had had feelings for Tweek for years and I still couldn’t muster half the amount of courage to admit it. Although it was a different situation, I couldn’t imagine how awkward it would be to approach my friend and ask if they had feelings for me, even if I did return those feelings. Kenny really is a great friend.  
_  
  


I had been holding in a frustrated scream for four hours straight. I had been sitting in the dark of my bedroom doing nothing but attempting to retain any sliver or information with nothing but myself and Boston’s self-titled album on repeat softly in the background. Nothing was sticking. I still had no clue how to graph inequalities, I didn’t know how to identify post-modern literature, I didn’t know what era hominids thrived in, and I didn’t understand anything about biology. My stress levels had risen higher than they had ever been.

Forcing myself to take another ten-minute break, I thought about calling Tweek to calm myself down. It had been a day or two since I had seen him in person due to the fact that he’d been shutting everyone but myself out. This process also includes ingesting a ridiculous amount of coffee because he claims he ‘needs it to stay calm’. I dialed his number and let the phone ring several times before accepting that there would be no reply. I slammed my hand against my forehead, puffing out a deep sigh. A strong combination of vexation and hopelessness swirled around inside my head. I longed for a photographic memory.

Scrolling through my phone mindlessly, I landed on Cartman’s Instagram. My thoughts again wandered to the way that my friend copes with his lack of study skills—or, _used to_. Pills and drugs were never something I thought I'd end up considering, but I also never thought I'd be genuinely stressed out and worried about not passing tests. While aware of the notion that my social drama was likely what disrupted my ability to learn and function properly in school, an easy way to force myself to focus sounded undeniably appealing.

I tapped over to his number and pressed my phone to my ear. With the thoughts of what I was about to do, my heart began to pound in my chest. I wetted my lips and waited to hear his distinct voice on the other end.

“What’s goin’ on, Tucker?”

I sighed, “Are you with Kyle?”

“Not at the moment,” Cartman told me. “Why?”

“Do you still have speed? Or access to it,”  
A condescending laugh sounded on the other line, “So, after months of acting like you’re better than me for not doing drugs, you need it to study?”

  
I rolled my eyes, “Are you going to help me out or not?”

Cartman paused, and then revealed, “Alright, I genuinely don’t do take anything anymore. Kyle got me to cut me down to only weed. But, Mark Coswald sells his Adderall. It was ten bucks last time I checked.”

“Please help, dude, I’m fucking desperate.”

“Alright, alright, I got you. As long as you don’t tell Kyle. I am finally on his good side again and I’ll seriously kill you, Craig. Also, buy my lunch tomorrow. Meet me at my house in an hour or so.”

The nerves settled in much more when he relayed the last message to me before clicking the ‘End’ button. I peered over at my clock and groaned. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

When the hour had passed, my mind was still made up in probably the wrong direction. I stood on my shaky legs and drew my coat over my shoulders. I had felt guilty as the morning I woke up with an awful hangover, but like the second time I drained too much alcohol, I pushed those feelings away and trudged downstairs.

I fibbed to my dad that I was going to grab my phone-charger from Stan’s house and instead stopped two houses closer to my own. I tapped on the green-paint chipped door before shoving my fists back into my jacket. My knees felt like lead.

Soon after my summoning, Cartman came to the door, his expression surprisingly neutral. “’Sup, brah. So, apparently Mark could only get me one, so I only need five bucks.”

“Okay,” I breathed. I extracted a five-dollar bill and placed it in his hand, which he then shoved into his pocket. He then handed me a tiny plastic bag and leaned against the doorframe. I peered up at him incredulously, “Weren’t you going to charge me eighteen dollars for two of these earlier this year?"

“Well, yeah, I had to make a profit! Anyway, take it easy with that stuff,” he warned, “It's 15 miligrams, so, you’re going to be super fucked up your first time. It usually only lasts a few hours, but you’ll probably be awake all night.”  
  


I nodded, barely fazed by the incoming information. “Yeah, that’s the goal. Fuck exams.”  
  


“I’ll let you know if we end up convincing Kyle to give us answers,” Cartman assured me as I turned to leave.  
  


I fiddled with the baggie in my pocket through the whole, short walk home. The freezing Colorado winds nipping at my ears and nose painfully felt like some kind of punishment for what I was about to do. Although I knew for sure that I would probably end up regretting this, I was too desperate to feel relieved from all this exam and Tweek stress.  
  


I briefly conversed with my parents before shutting myself back up in my room. I was completely reassured that I was making the right decision when my eyes returned to all the scattered papers and opened books littering my desk. Dumping the pill out of the baggie, I stared at it for a second, reading and re-reading the word ‘Adderall’ inscribed in small letters. I took a deep breath and placed it on my tongue, scanning my eyes along the room for some form of liquid to wash it down with. I stalked over to my nightstand and lifted a half-drunken water bottle. I shut my eyes. This was the moment that I had to decide whether I was going to go down this road for the night.

I thought hard about everything that was going on; my first relationship went to shit, I lost all my closest friends, and while I had gained other ones the person I cared about most is too depressed to even pick up the phone when I call him, I didn’t understand anything that was going on in school and I was the closest I had ever been to a panic attack. My most recognizable personality trait (apathy) was getting away from me. This pill could make that go away for at least a night.

It was worth it to me in the moment. I swallowed it with a swig of room-temperature water. I let out a gasp and bit down on my lip. According to Google, I had anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour before I started speeding out.  
  


There was a picture frame on my nightstand that contained a photo of Tweek and me. We were thirteen and both clad in over-the-top _Call of Duty_ Halloween costumes. We stood back to back with our guns pointed at the camera. I grinned to myself, admiring Tweek’s mock serious expression on his war-paint covered face. He was mainly recognizable by the tuffs of bright blond hair sticking out of his helmet. As I stared at our previously happy faces, my heart began to pound at a faster, lighter rate and my mind became free of stress and full of focus.


	22. Chapter 22

I couldn’t remember a time that I had felt more amazing. It was as if I could view the whole world through a new and more fascinating and exciting lens. The world was at my fingertips.   
Snapping my head over to the desk across the room, I was reminded of the heap of studying I was forced to do. Instead of being filled with a dreadful, heavy feeling of distaste, determination settled in and I actually smiled to myself. I pushed myself up from my mattress and sauntered over to the table. I took a look at my math homework and squinted to read the formulas and figures. While it still didn’t make much sense, I didn’t feel as stupid and lost. I simply whipped out my phone and searched YouTube for a how-to video and texted Kyle to check my work. After I briefly mastered the graphing process, I filled my head with a couple of John Green videos (laughing way too hard at his lame jokes). Things began to click and the stack of homework began to gradually decrease.   
Before I could complete this process I became distracted with thoughts of Tweek. All things blond coffee-addict circled my mind and pushed all other thoughts out. There was no room for anything other than how crazy he made me on a daily basis. It became ridiculous to me that for so long all I’ve wanted to do was be with him, yet I’ve never even mentioned it to him. I had barely even made the slightest romantic gesture. Why was I such a pussy? Thanks to the laser-focus mode I was in, I somehow ended up convincing myself to talk to him and to finally tell him that I was in love with him.   
After calling him about thirteen times with no reply, I decided I had to take measures into my own hands and confront him in person as opposed to leaving it up to my iPhone to connect us. I checked the clock and saw that that it was midnight. There was no way that my parents would have allowed me to leave the house that late, even if I had explained to them my flawless logic as to why I had to plead my case to Tweek in person. I was more than ready to talk to him. What was there to be nervous about?  
I silently made my way downstairs, tugging on my jacket on the way. Pleased to find that both my parents had gone to bed, I remained quiet in my movements as I headed out the back door. I kept it unlocked for myself in case of my return, but something in the back of my head told me that I would pass out somewhere in between home and Tweek’s. It was the second time I had stepped outside into the bitterly low temperatures that night, and it felt far better the second time around. My spirits were high and my cares were seldom. I was on my way to converse with my best friend and the love of my life. Everything was right with the world. That was until the new problem arose, which was the logistics of actually getting into Tweek’s house.   
I stood before the Tweak residence and barely weighed my options before electing to simply play out the classic love-movie trope of chucking rocks at his window until I was noticed. After hurrying to find pebbles to throw at the front-facing window, I planted myself directly in front of the home and began pelting the outer walls. My aim was not exactly accurate, but my only true goal was to make noise and obtain Tweek’s attention.   
Shortly after the third rock was launched, the navy curtain was drawn away from the glass. It revealed a horrified-looking Tweek with his cell-phone pressed to his ear. Confused eyes darted from side to side, and then found me down on the ground. I lifted my arm and waved emphatically at him. Tweek spat something inaudible into his phone before tossing it to his side and scurrying away from the window. I grinning stupidly, hoping he was on his way down to greet me in my relaxed stupor.   
“Craig, what the hell?” I heard his perplexed voice say in what felt like mere seconds later.   
I snapped my head over to the front door, where Tweek was standing in his large sweatshirt, athletic shorts and miss-matched socks. My dopey smile stretched even wider as he beckoned me to come inside. I dragged my heavy feet in a far-from-straight path to the front door, chuckling when I met him at the threshold. I beamed at him, “Hey, Tweek!”   
Tweek grasped both of my arms in his hands, his expression bewildered, “What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you drunk again?”   
“No, I’m really high,” I easily admitted. “I wanted to talk to you, but you ignored my calls.”   
“Oh, uh, sorry, I was, uh…” He paused, peering away nervously, then back at me confusedly. “Wait, what the hell?! Why are you high?”   
Apparently I was speaking louder than I meant to as Tweek shushed me and warned that his parents were snoozing just above us. I whispered, “I needed to study and I couldn’t focus so I took this pill and it made everything a billion times easier. I feel fucking amazing.”   
Tweek shook his head, “Craig, I didn’t know you were struggling with school so much…”   
I shrugged, “I tried to call you, but it isn’t your fault. What were you doing? Are you okay?”   
He nodded his head, rubbing his pointy nose with the back of his hand. It was then I noticed his eyes were irritated, as is he had been crying. “Yeah, I was just talking on the phone, sorry. I wish I had answered, I could have talked you out of this! What are you on?”   
“It’s fine, it’s Adderall, and it’s awesome! I honestly feel really great, Tweek, like, seriously. It’s not your fault, y’know? You were probably talking to someone more important.”   
He disagreed instantly, “Nobody is more important to me than you.”   
I laughed aloud, “Evidently there is someone. Who was it? Calum?” I knew instantly when Tweek swallowed hard. He let out a shaky sigh and nodded his head in confirmation. Suddenly, my determination to pour my deepest feelings for him out was replaced by my hatred for his all-consuming relationship with Calum. I groaned in disgust, “Are you fucking serious? You’re still talking to him after what he did to you?!”  
“No, not really, he just wanted to get some things off his chest—“   
“Is that why you’ve been crying?” I guessed.   
Tweek’s words failed him. He pursed his lips and stowed his gaze away from my accusing eyes. “What do you want from me, Craig? It isn’t easy to ignore him, especially when he just wants to apologize.”  
I let out another laugh, this one more sardonic, “Right, because his apologies mean so much. He definitely doesn’t do exactly what he promises he won’t do every fucking time you go crawling back to him,”   
My friend’s eyebrows furrowed together, beginning to get offended by my unrelenting honesty. In my state, I couldn’t possibly have cared less. Everything that I had spent so long hiding behind my walls was being recklessly tossed into the open. “Calum is the worst possible thing for you, you know? I hate the person you become when you’re around him. You’re so sad and angry and depressed and there’s nothing I can do to help it. Do you know how much that sucks? You’re so caught up in his lies you don’t see he couldn’t care less about you! It’s so stupid!”   
“He does care about me,” Tweek pointlessly defended. “He just doesn’t know how to express it, and he’s been through so much—“   
“So have you. So have I. So has fucking Kenny McCormick, and he’s still the nicest person ever. Calum has no excuse to treat you like shit just because he’s been through a lot,” I was talking so quickly that I couldn’t even understand myself. It was almost as if I had lost control of my body and lips and I just kept spewing all my thoughts and feelings. The barely sober part of me was begging the remaining, stoned majority to shut the fuck up, but it seemed that I had been containing this side of me for too long. “Fuck Calum. Can you please just forget about him and move on?”   
Tweek scoffed, shaking his head and pacing in the opposite direction, “So, this is what you came to talk to me about in the middle of the night, high off your ass? Why I need to move on from Calum?”   
“Actually, that wasn’t my original topic,” I spoke truthfully, making an ungraceful path behind Tweek. “But it’s more important.”   
He spun around to look at me. He studied my face for a moment, and even off my ass, he made my stomach feel queasy. Tweek sniffled, eyes welling with tears again, “Do you know how hard it is to try to stop loving someone? Everywhere I go, everything reminds me of him and how we used to be… He’s all I can think about, even though I know he’s no good for me.”   
Hearing this reply caused utter wrath to swarm inside of me. It felt like such an injustice to hear these words come at me from the very one who had caused me to feel that way for years. I laughed again, a kind of cackle that made Tweek (and me) question my sanity. Every glance at his face that I stole fueled these emotions inside of me.   
“Yeah, Tweek. I actually do know how that fucking feels,” I assured him. I was slightly disappointed by the fact that I had become upset while still under the influence of this drug that was supposed to make me feel light and great. Instead my feelings were amplified. “You show me how it feels every time you talk about Calum. Every time you decide to get back with him, I wonder what is wrong with me and why I’m not good enough for you. I’ve been here this whole fucking time, more than willing to treat you right, and yet you chose some absolute piece of shit over me, every time. Do you know how fucking hard that is?”   
Tweek swiftly became confused with my leaking of previously classified information. He gazed at me through wide, glossy green eyes, “Craig—what do you mean?”   
I smiled indignantly, “Come on. If you don’t know how I feel about you by now, you’re either stupid or you’re ignoring it on purpose.”   
“I don’t—what are you saying?” He remained either unaware or unwilling to give up his ignorant façade.   
I pushed him away when he tried to reach for my hand, “Fuck it. I don’t know why I thought coming here was a good idea. But, my high is officially ruined and I’m probably gonna start crying so, you don’t need to see that.”   
“Craig, wait, please,” Tweek pleaded as I turned and rushed towards the front door. My heart throbbed when his hand wrapped around my wrist. I allowed myself to become momentarily lost in his eyes, "Just talk to me, please. I want you to tell me what's going on, I'm just confused!"   
"You're seriously confused? You seriously aren't sure what I'm talking about?" I challenged, ignoring the fact that my droopy eyes would not allow me to crease my eyebrows at him. I must have looked insane.   
Tweek sniffled, exclaimed, "You never just talk to me! You never tell me what's going on with you! I want to help you just as much as you help me!"  
“Well, it doesn't feel like it. It doesn't matter, anyway, I know you'll never love me the way I love you, so just let me go.” I insisted, jerking my arm out of his grasp again. With that, he stopped his protests and watched as I stormed out of the house.   
Rushing down the pavement, I ignored the shocking transition from a heated household into the winter night. I cursed Adderall’s name for building me up to break me down in the worst of ways. This false confidence would only come back to destroy me the next day, and I felt so much worse than where I started from. On top of it all, the enthusiastic energy was replaced with a sweaty panic.   
I hurried back to my own home and was far less concerned with the amount of noise I was causing than before. Prior to slamming the backdoor ajar, I tromped up the stairs with heavy footsteps, completely cognizant of the consequences I could face for waking my family members up so late—although Ruby was more than likely still awake despite her ten-o’clock bedtime. I didn’t care.   
I rushed back into my bedroom, tearing up and wishing I had another pill or a do-over of the day. In a way, I was vaguely disappointed when my parents did not come bounding on my bedroom door in search of answers as to why I had been outside so late or what was wrong with me. It made me feel even more alone and insignificant. The worst part of all of these feelings was that my overly logical side was simultaneously convincing me I was just being ridiculous. It was coaxing me to dry my eyes and be soothed by the chemicals I forced myself to imbibe.  
Eventually I was able to do so, but Tweek would unfortunately always stay in the back of my mind, a beautiful mistake that I never learned from.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: minor gore/fighting

Not receiving a wink of sleep that night, I was rendered completely drained. I could barely piece together the events of the night, which proved to be tremendously frustrating. I knew at some point I paid Tweek a visit. What was said, I was not sure of at all, but I knew I had heard his voice.

When my alarm clock went off as it was programed to do every time it turned six-thirty in the morning I slammed my fist against the snooze button and buried my face in the pillow before me. I had been staring into the darkness of my bedroom for hours straight without a specific train of thought and a racing heart. As the Adderall slowly wore off I was still left in an odd frame of mind, but the lack of sleep had caught up with me physically. The mattress seemed to suck me back into its comfort and warmth as soon as I began to lift myself from its embrace. My limbs were almost as heavy as the feeling of rocks in my stomach. Each step felt ten pounds heavier than I recalled and the intense urge to topple over on the ground slowly possessed me.

“Craig, honey, are you okay? You look like you’ve been up all night,” Mom commented on my ungodly appearance after I barely managed to slither into a pair of gray, jogger sweatpants and a hoodie.

I smirked sardonically at the dramatic irony of her statement. “I was studying for exams,” I half-lied simply.

She frowned and leaned up to reach the top of my head, smoothing down a stray strand of hair, “You need to make sure you give yourself a break. Your health is more important than getting a perfect score on those ridiculous tests. You know what, right?”

“Right, I will.” I shrugged, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge then turning towards the door.

Mom shadowed me into the adjacent room as I went to tug my shoes on. “You’re not going to have breakfast? What about just a granola bar?”

I shook my head ‘no’. Becoming somewhat irritated with her row of questioning, I rushed to push my feet into my Vans and grab my knit chullo hat from the hooks by the front door. It was considerably rare for my mother to sincerely aggravate me, which was my first clue that today would be another shit show for me.  
_

My irritation with the world around me only intensified throughout the bus ride to school. While I was sat beside Kenny, who I normally enjoyed conversing with about random things, I grew less and less tolerant of merely the sound of other people breathing around me. I felt as though I was going to snap at any moment—that I needed to snap at any moment.

Even Stan set me on edge when he inquired about my well-being on the way to our lockers, “Are you okay, dude?”

“Fine.” I fired back instantly.

Kyle’s eyebrows lifted as I did not sound ‘fine’. He stepped in, “Obviously there’s something wrong, so when you decide you want to talk about why you look like a sleep deprived serial killer, we’re here.”

“I said I’m fine, okay? Seriously,” I huffed, propelling myself forward into the small hoard of meandering students in the hallway.  
Although I was cognizant of my unnecessary attitude with my friends, I couldn’t bring myself to care. I challenged anyone to tell me I was being a dick and set me off completely. I had never felt quite so close to a breaking point in my entire life, but being on the verge of tears while simultaneously possessing the desire to violently kill myself must have been it.

“Craig, man,” Kenny’s voice sounded from beside me. My glance met his worried face as he propped himself against the locker beside me. “Do you wanna skip?”

For the first time this morning, something that was said became of interest to me. “Skip school?”

He nodded in confirmation, a few of his blond curls bouncing with his movements. “I do it all the time. You look like you could use a day off.”

I sighed in relief, “We won’t get in trouble, right?”

“Nah, I gotcha. There’s a broken camera near the back-exit. I’ve never been caught.” Kenny revealed, gesturing westward towards the alleged exit.

“When do we go?” I questioned eagerly. This suggestion was much more than an interest at this point, but desperation. If I had been forced to attend the classes that contributed to the accumulating stress I have exploded.

“I usually duck out after the first bell rings. But that’s just me—my dad goes to work at seven-fifty.”

“So, we could leave now? If we don’t go home,”

Kenny shrugged, “I guess so. Whatever you need, dude.”

I needed to leave and to not feel suffocated as I did. Without a second thought or glance, I gestured for my friend to lead the way. Kenny granted me a weak grin and spun on his heels. Surprisingly enough, the closer we got to the door, the lighter I felt. Habitually, things that involved me getting into trouble and thus causing my casual social life an inconvenience would have caused me somewhat anxiety. I felt virtually none in that moment. All my mind was centered around was some fresh air.

Kenny was also soothingly nonchalant about the whole affair when we reached our exit point. He briefly scanned our surroundings before pushing open one of the glass doors, allowing me to take the first steps to freedom. As soon as my feet traveled from linoleum to concrete, my shoulders became somewhat lighter. I was still enclosing my urge to punch something, but at least I wouldn’t have to be in school.

“Alright, where to, man?” My friend asked, flipping the hood of his jacket up to combat the frigid weather.

I gave my shoulders an unenthusiastic shrug before trotting forward. While I truly had no particular desire to go to a specific place, I needed to physically exert some percentage of this raging energy. Usually when I would feel this ridiculously awful, I’d have that voice inside my head telling me that I’m being whiney and I just need to calm down, but the noise was shut out by my aggressive irritation.

“What’cha taking me to the woods for, Tucker?” Kenny remarked after an exhale of cigarette smoke.

I disregarded his quip, a bit surprised with myself to leading us to the wooded area beside Stark’s Pond. This was the place where I first spent time with Thomas and—while my feelings for him hadn’t been strong, and I was sure his for me had completely deteriorated—I felt even more teenage angst bubble inside of me. I recalled what it felt like to have someone genuinely like me and enjoy my company. My chest was heaving.

“If I punch a tree, will you not stop me?” I spat at Kenny, glancing between him and the trunk of a thick, oak tree.

This request seemed to cause conflict inside his head, and instead he concluded, “Just punch me. It won’t hurt your hand as bad.”

I did a double take at him only to find he was not joking. “You’re an idiot, I’m not hitting you.”

Then, without caution or any warning whatsoever, I felt a hard, clenched fist colonize with my right cheek. From the shock and pure impact, I toppled to the cold snow. “Fuck!” I exclaimed in agony, covering my cheek instinctively. I stared daggers up at Kenny, “What the fuck, McCormick?!”

Kenny only smirked, stretching his arms out challengingly, “You gonna hit me now, pussy?”

Anger boiled my blood red hot, numbing the pain in my face. I forced myself up off the ground and stalked towards the barely shorter blond. I cocked my first in retaliation and let it collide with the bridge of his nose. Pain shot throughout my knuckles and tendons, causing me to hiss as Kenny staggered backwards. He recovered much quicker than I had from the initial hit. He ran at me in attempts to tackle me to the ground.

We were locked in a physical battle more serious than I had ever experienced. Sure, I had been in countless ‘play fights’ with Clyde and Token, but nobody had ever punched me square in the face, nor actually knew how to pack a punch. Kenny, on the other hand, had grown up in an abusive environment that forced him to be able to defend himself, and damn, did it pay off.

Not that I was as proficient in the fighting category as Kenny was, but I was a fairly large kid. I held my own and delivered a few more critical blows to my opponent, and good friend’s, face, but a majority of the fight was pushing and pulling on one another’s jackets and shoulders in attempts to gain dominance. Grunting and letting heavy breaths escape us, we took turns slamming each other against trees or trying to pull each other to the earth. Finally, I granted Kenny a precarious punch to his abdomen, sufficiently knocking the wind out of him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, falling to a squatting position and holding his stomach.

I watched him sink to the snow-caked ground, blood trickling from his nose reminding me of the open cut oozing from my eyebrow. Shakily, I lifted a hand to gingerly touch the area of injury. When I scrutinized my hand, I saw a large smear of crimson blood. My breathing became hard again, and with all these emotions and energy and pure wrath swirling inside of me, I had to throw my head back and yell out in agony, “Fuck,”

“Let it out, Craig,” Kenny advised through a series of pants. I glared down at him as he clutched his stomach. He nodded up at me, “Just let it all out.”

“What?!” I yelled back at him, “Let what out?! Like there somethin going on inside my head that _you_ fucking know about?! You don’t know shit about me! I don’t need to fucking let anything out, I’m gonna be fine! I’m always fucking _fine_!”

He scoffed, managing to make it unsteadily to his feet. Peering dead into my eyes, he spoke, “Then why the fuck did Tweek tell me you were doin’ pills? Drinking? Shitting on Stan and Kyle just for asking what’s up? Not sleeping, barely fuckin’ eating—“

“Because I feel like shit, Kenny!” I cut him off, tossing my arms in the air in mock submission. “There, you happy? Is that what you wanted to hear? I feel like absolute shit constantly. My best fucking friends since forever dropped me within the first two weeks of high school, I’m failing all my classes because I don’t know what the fuck is going on, I’m always fucking hungry and I can’t sleep, and the stupid asshole that I’ve been in love with for years doesn’t want anything to do with me!”

Truthfully, I didn’t even realize how much all of that baggage was hurting me until I blurted it all out. Huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf, I maintained an intense eye contact with Kenny while my eyes decided whether or not they wanted tears to embarrassingly pour from my ducts. Instead, I chewed down hard on my lip and shook my head, “I don’t understand what my problem is. Why can’t I just move the on? I completely fucked Thomas over because of it, and I actually liked him a lot. I feel like a Calum.”

Kenny chuckled dryly, “Definitely not a Calum.”

“I’m not much better,” I retorted. “I’m a fucking pussy. I pretend like it’s just part of my personality, like I’m just super cool and mysterious and nothing bothers me. This is one of the few times I actually talked about my feelings.”

Blood was still dripping steadily from Kenny’s nose, and it was then that he also received a nice slash across his lip from a meeting with my knuckles. Despite the permanently freezing weather, sweat caked his blond waves to his forehead, and as did mine. He shrugged weakly and titled his head towards me. “And?”

“And what?” I shot back.

“And,” he went on, peering up at the sky, then back at me. “Did the planet explode?”

“Fuck off,” I grunted.

Kenny smiled softly and clapped my arm, “You can’t bottle your shit like that, dude. You’ll go fuckin’ crazy. You know, like you just did at school. How the fuck long you been keeping all that shit to yourself, anyways?”

Beginning to wind down, I stowed my gaze away and scoffed, “Too long, I guess.”

“Trust me, people are still gonna think you’re mysterious if you tell people your problems once in a while. You don’t have to bury your feelings—that’s how you end up like Stan.” Kenny spoke slowly, as if it was the most important thing he could say.

I paused a minute. It vaguely flabbergasted me to hear such caring words come from another human being. I swallowed, “Why do you even give a shit about me and how I’m feeling?”

Kenny’s signature charming smirk returned to his battered face. “We’re friends, man. We take care of each other. We fight, we yell, we hug, we kiss—we do whatever the hell each other needs.”

My chest began to feel a bit lighter, and a hell of a lot more appreciative of the bruised idiot in front of me. I grinned, then gasped when I noticed his lip-ring was oozing blood, “Dude, your piercing is bleeding!”

“Damn, for real?” he asked, touching his index finger to the black jewelry and wincing, “I was surprised how good you clocked me. It kinda turned me on, not gonna lie,”

I puffed out a chuckle, peering endearingly at him as he pressed a flame against the cigarette he had pulled from his pocket. “Thanks for beating the shit out of me, man.”

He winked, blew out a smooth breath of white smoke, “Anytime, babe. Let me know if you’re down for round two soon.”

It was indubitably extremely refreshing to get everything out in the open as opposed to conflicting thoughts like bumper cars in my brain, running into one another, cancelling each other out, and confusing me. While it felt pretty cheesy, I was beyond grateful to hear Kenny’s sentiments about friendship. A friend like him is all I’ve really needed this whole time, although, there was still no remedy for my predicament with Tweek.

“And as for that cute, little blond you’re obsessed with,” Kenny went on, as if reading my mind. “just talk to him, Craig. Let him know how you feel. If he still picks that Calum asshole over you knowing that, then you just know he’s not worth it. Even if he still seems worth it.”

I sighed, “I guess you’re right… I just want him more than anything, man. He’s… he’s like my whole world.”

Kenny smiled sadly at me from behind his cigarette. “Yeah, I know, you’re really obvious.”

Leaning against a tree, I thought for a moment about just how much I had invested into Tweek. I smiled at a specific memory, and verbalized my thoughts (something I would never become good at, but it was a lot easier with Kenny), “One time when we were about nine, Tweek had this massive panic attack because of this thunderstorm during one of our sleepovers with Clyde and Token. Of course, they didn’t give a shit, and the attacks had just started with Tweek, so I didn’t really figure out what to do to help him yet. But I just remember he was shaking like crazy and crying, and trying to be quiet all at the same time. I couldn’t leave him alone like that, he was hysterical. I don’t even know why, but my very, realest instinct was to just reach over and give him a big bear hug. He held onto me for dear life and told him that everything was going to be okay… When he calmed down, he just stayed there and fell asleep on me, just hugging me…”

“Wow,” Kenny huffed. “you started simping for him real early on.”

I snorted, “Fuck off. I just remember that because it was the first time I ever helped him through it. It made me feel so happy.”

“Don’t worry, dude. Tweek’s definitely always gonna need you there for him. You’re the only one who puts up with his fuckin’ incessant conspiracy theories. Kid’s convinced fuckin’ the government is the Illuminati and it’s just a matter of time before they reveal themselves as the lizard people.”

I smirked to myself, because that’s absolutely something Tweek would easily get himself to believe. I nodded, “Crab people is what he’s actually worried about. I have really good taste.”

“’Course you do,” He assured me, patting the back of my head and flicking his burnt out cigarette into the snow disturbed by our quarrelling. “How about we head to my place now? I need some fuckin’ Tylenol and weed.”

I cocked an eyebrow as we began shuffling out of the woods, “Weed? I thought part of this street-fight-therapy session was being drug free.”

Kenny snorted, “Weed’s a fuckin’ plant, it doesn’t count. I just highly advise against taking shit that is prescribed to someone else. No alcohol, either.”

“So, protect my liver and kidney, but screw my lungs?” I wondered for clarification.

“Exactly.” Kenny nodded proudly.

_

Although I rejected Kenny’s marijuana offer, I swallowed four Tylenol to dull the ache in my face and chest that my friend so generously granted me. After he drenched his injured piercing in saline solution and I decided whether or not was going to pass out (I didn’t), we reclined on the single sofa in his shabby home. I glanced over at him as he pressed a pack of frozen hotdogs against his busted lip. “What made you think punching me would work?”

He flicked his red, droopy eyes over to me and shrugged, “You’re a dude, it’s called testosterone. Plus, last time I saw someone that pissed off, it was Kyle and he sprained his hand from punching a wall.”

I nodded, “Guess that sort of makes sense.”

After roughly two hours of nothing but lounging on the couch and relaxing with reruns of X-Files (his ‘high show’, as he called it) on Kenny’s borrowed Netflix account, I became terrified of the humble home. I had seen two different rats with varying amounts of toes scurrying across the floor in search of whatever scarce crumbs were scattered along the stain-riddled carpet. The ceiling had multiple leaks, some of which trickling freely onto the ground, and the larger ones falling rhythmically into a bucket. There was a lingering stench of upchuck combined with tobacco and marijuana smoke (possibly a bit of meth, but I wasn’t entirely sure how to identify that smell). While it wasn’t a five star hotel or nearly as comfortable as Stan’s home, it was a hell of a lot better than school and I was exceedingly grateful to feel the calmest I had in months.

When school had come to an end for the non-truant members of our group, they headed over to the McCormick residence in order to check on the both of us. Although it was not Kenny’s first skipping rodeo, and more than likely not his last, Kyle always had concern for him as well. He burst through the front door, eyebrows curved angrily at the two of us as we stay lying on the sofa. “Where the fuck have you guys been? You know you can get in a lot of trouble for skipping, right? And what the hell happened to your faces?!”

“Ky, mellow out,” Cartman deadpanned, “Kenny just probably had to leave early to move heroin with his dad again.”

“Fuck you,” Kenny shot back, patting my knee. “We were bonding.”

“Can we all bond by getting some KFC?” Cartman inquired. “I’m fucking hungry.”

“What the fuck else is new.” I commented, standing to my feet as I earned a few approving snarls from Stan and Kenny.

“Me and Craig’ll meet you guys there,” Stan announced as we filed out of Kenny’s home. I would have relished in the fresh air surrounding me after leaving the confines of the dilapidated crack house, but I was confused by Stan’s suggestion. “He left some shit in my room and mom’s making me clean it today.”

“Alright, see you.” Kyle easily accepted and followed Cartman, who assured everyone he would die if he didn’t swallow a bucket of chicken in the next four minutes.

Stan and I ambled down the pavement in the opposite direction as the others, crossing the abandoned train tracks that separated Kenny’s house from the rest of the neighborhood. When we were isolated enough for my questions to be private, I turned to him and asked, “What’s up?”

“Dude… So fucking much happened last night.” He began, shaking his head from side to side.

“Tell me about it.”

Stan swallowed a lump in his throat. Troubled eyes continuously darted from the snowy sidewalk to the surprisingly blaring sun. “Kenny came over after everyone went home, alone, and told me he needed to talk about something. I didn’t know what the hell was going on and I was kind of flipping shit. But when we got to my room, he uh… he locked the door and just started kissing me.”

My eyes bulged out of their sockets, shocked and vaguely offended that Kenny had not informed me about his. “What?!”

“Yeah…” Stan nodded. “We, uh… Made out a lot, and…”

“And?” I pressed gingerly for more information. “Did you guys…?”

“Not, like, up the ass,” Stan clarified definitively. “But, Craig, can I be completely honest with you?”

“Yeah,” I assured him.

“I… I don’t think I ever...” Stan paused, then shook his head. “Never mind, that's too weird. I just, I, uh... I enjoyed that a lot more than with Wendy, that's all I'll say."

I stifled a laugh and shook my head, patting his shoulder comfortingly, “It's okay to be gay, Stan.”

He huffed, shrugging dramatically, “I don’t know if I'm _gay_ , I mean, I was still definitely attracted to Wendy, but... God, Kenny is so much better,”

“So, what's going to happen between you two?” I asked him, now knowing that Kenny was being entirely literal when he said we _kiss_ in his spiel in the woods earlier that day.

“I don't know... Do you think that was, like, a pity fuck or something because he knows I'm crazy about him?” Stan wondered, a miserable lip pouted.

“I’m positive that isn't it, man. Kenny loves you, he would never do that to you.”

“Yeah, but does he love me like I love him?”

I paused, taking in his shaky, slightly saddened expression. I knew that look in his eyes all too well; it was the look I saw in the mirror every time the thought of Tweek popped into my head. I wetted my lips, replying slowly, "I can't really answer that for you, but he can. Just talk to him. Or, kiss him, however you two communicate."

Stan's lips dashed into a tentative smile and he looked down, "Even if he doesn't, I just hope we can still be friends... I don't want to fuck up my friendship with him over anything."

Thinking back on everything Kenny told me about how he treats his friends and considering the fact that Stan had lived by that philosophy in his eyes for almost sixteen years of their lives, I knew for a fact that there was no way they could be broken up. That was the best part of that group. They were all so genuinely close and loving towards one another. According to Kenny, I was included in the circle. Even if Tweek would never love me back the way I loved him, it was almost enough to just be a part of ‘Stan’s Gang’.  
I granted him a half-smile, “Don’t worry about it, man. You’re family to him.”

Stan sighed, stopping before his house, “I guess you’re right… to be honest, though, I'm glad I at least know for sure I'm, like, bisexual. I tried to talk about this shit with my dad once and _God_ , that was a mistake." 

We continued to discuss the thought processes behind our sexualities, and the more we talked and laughed, the more ridiculous I felt. I was on the verge of suicide just that morning, and in a matter of hours my entire mood and perspective had shifted in a much more positive direction. Perhaps what people told me about bottling up my emotions was true after all. You just explode after so long.  
And the enduring discomfort in my face reminded me of how bad I can get if I refuse to take care of myself.  
_

“Craig, Tweek’s here!” my mom’s voice sounded from downstairs.

My belly full of Cornel’s gravy and mashed potatoes dropped when I heard the announcement as I slaved over my desk to cram some more information into my refreshed brain. I bit down on my lip, debating on whether or not I was ready to confront Tweek with the lack of knowledge of what I had said to him in my rare form the night prior.

Swallowing my pride, I called, “Come on up, Tweek!”

Purely out of habit, I shot up and judged my appearance in the mirror. I shifted some of my hair back into place and frowned at the large gash beside my eyebrow and the dark bruise adorning my eye. The state of my appearance was just wonderful to try and explain to my mom. I ended up telling her me and Kenny were messing around and got a bit too carried away.

I jumped away from the reflective surface when I heard my door swing open. I pretended to be changing out my t-shirt when Tweek poked his shock of blond hair through the door. His expression was a combination of concerned and what seemed to be guilty. I could read him all too well.

“Hey,” his greeting was lacking in confidence as I chose another clean shirt from the second drawer of my wardrobe. “Why weren’t you at school?”

“Skipped with Kenny,” I replied truthfully as I snapped the plain, black garment over my head. I shook my hair back into position and turned to face him, instantly earning a loud gasp.

“What happened to you?!” Tweek sputtered, rushing over to my side and tossing his over-the-shoulder bag onto my mattress. He wore a warm scarf wrapped around his neck, and one of his many sweaters adorned his torso. Tweek’s pale cheeks were tinged with crimson from the harsh air outside, as well as the tip of his pointy nose. These were the only things I paid attention to as he manipulated my facial features gently with his freezing fingers. “Who did this to you?!”

“Relax,” I told him after snapping back into reality. “I was just blowing off some steam with Kenny.”

Tweek’s eyes enlarged, “What?! Kenny did this to you? I thought he was cool!”

I couldn’t help but grin a bit, “He’s the coolest, Tweekers. We were just messing around. It was… therapeutic. I’m sure you know I kind of needed it today.”

His countenance shifted again, knowing exactly what I was referring to. “Yeah… I’m so sorry, Craig. I should’ve been there for you… I was just caught up with Calum and I’m a jerk for it.”

“You’re not a jerk,” I assured him. “He’s your boyfriend. I understand.”

As much as it pained my chest to not hear him deny it, I accepted the slight nod of his head and the puppy-like eyes he was giving me. I pulled a smile out of my ass so he’d feel better, “Really, Tweek, I’m stable. I swear. I’m actually the one who should be apologizing for whatever the fuck I said to you last night. I was super fucked up.”

“You don’t remember?” Tweek question, his face falling. I shook my head negatively. “Oh, uh, it’s okay…You didn’t say much, just that I shouldn’t be with Calum and I deserve better. Basically the same thing as when you’re sober, just, y’know… more insane sounding.”

I nodded, a bit relieved that I didn’t divulge any more information to him. “Right. Again, sorry about that.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay.” Tweek promised, nervously fiddling with his scarf. “So, uh… you busy studying? It think we’re still on episode four…”

I grinned, reminding of the fact that Tweek and I began watching a show together and never quite had the opportunity to finish. “You think you can handle sitting next to me knowing I could give you one of these at any second?” I pointed to my black eye.

Tweek rolled his eyes, “Positive, you idiot.”

“I’m not an idiot, dude. I’m tough.”

“Yes, getting into a fight with your friend just to do it is definitely tough,” Tweek scoffed, kicking off his shoes and grabbing my laptop.

We assumed our unofficially assigned positions on my bed and sprawled out around each other. As we watched and lay side by side, nothing changed. My heart still pounded in that ridiculous way that it always did when I was within two feet of him. But, I just kept telling myself that it was okay. Maybe I couldn’t tell him how I felt like Kenny suggested it, but maybe if I stared at him longingly enough he would get the picture.


	24. Chapter 24

A few episodes into our marathon, Tweek offered to help me study for our upcoming English exam. Grammar was a huge portion of our curriculum, and I struggled with remembering the various terms and when to apply them. As it turned out, the only thing I was able to accomplish on Adderall was finishing my math study guide and scrawling out some completely illegible flash cards.  
Tweek had always been a huge right-side-of-the-brain kind of person. English was his favorite subject, very closely followed by history, so he knew exactly what was going on. He was also a fairly decent artist and an exceptional pianist. On extremely rare occasions, I was able to persuade him into performing his original music for me (a startling amount of which was inspired by terrifying political situations). He was by far the most creative and talented person I knew.   
“These aren’t completely wrong, I guess,” Tweek encouraged me as he flipped through my notecards, “How about we just go off your packet?”   
I shrugged, “Whatever you say, you’re the tutor.”   
The blond kid took a long sip of coffee before picking up the English study guide I had discarded the day before. He flipped through it and began quizzing me. About halfway down the list of terms, I was growing easily irritated and frustrated again. I sucked in sips of my own coffee and continuously threatened to give up.   
Tweek widened his eyes in annoyance at me, dropping the stapled papers to his lap, “Man, you seriously need to just get some sleep! You look like you’re about to rip your hair out!”   
“I am about to rip out my hair, Tweek. I’ll never get this shit and our exams are in a few days.”   
He reached out a sympathetic hand and patted my knee, replying, “You’re not stupid like you think you are, Craig. It’s okay to not be great at English—“  
I cut him off, leaning back in my desk chair and sending him a scowl, “That is super easy for someone who is great English to say.”   
Tweek huffed, “You didn't let me finish! You are very smart and totally capable of figuring this stuff out! I’m sorry this is hard for you, but you’re sleep deprived, man! That’s the main reason why none of this is making sense to you!”   
“You’re perpetually sleep deprived and you’re still doing fine,” I argued, swiveling in my chair and collapsing against my desk. When it felt exceedingly better to have my eyes closed, I realized that Tweek was on to something.   
I remained in that position for a moment, listening to papers and books rustle around beside me. I turned my head and lifted one eyelid to peer at Tweek, who was straightening up my workspace. I said, “Thanks for trying to help me. Sorry I’ve been so crazy today.”   
Tweek sent me a quick, sweet side-smile and continued, “I’m always happy to help you. Now, why don’t you get into bed?”   
I pouted a lip and glanced at the clock, “I cannot go to bed at eight o’clock. That’s way too lame.”   
“No it’s not! Here, I’ll prove it, I’ll stay the night and go to sleep too!”   
I cleared my throat, pushing myself upright, “You really don’t have to do that…”   
“No, no, it’s cool! Like you said, I could use the sleep anyway,” Tweek rationalized, draining the remainder of his coffee. He grabbed mine and his empty mugs and perked his head at me, “Unless you’d rather be alone?”   
I shook my head, fighting an excited smile, “It’s probably not a good idea for me to be left alone for a while.”   
Tweek giggled in agreement and turned the doorknob with his freehand. “Get some pajamas on while I take these down.”   
With the door pulled shut, I stood and trotted over to my dresser while kicking off my shoes. I pulled out a fresh pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Tweek re-entered the room as I shimmied beneath the blankets. He secured the door shut and made his way to where I had just come from, pulling out some of my clothes to change into from his jeans and sweater. He cast his green eyes over to me with a sheepish grin, “Don’t watch,”   
I slapped a hand over my eyes, sort of relieved I did not have to awkwardly pretend as though I wasn’t stealing glimpses of him in only underwear as I usually did when he changed in my presence. Once I felt his weight drop beside me on my bed, I separated my fingers enough to peer over at him. “Are you decent?”   
“Duh,” Tweek quipped, shifting to face me. He took a moment to scan my face wordlessly, “So, are you okay?”   
“I think so,” I let him know, absentmindedly pulling my comforter to my chest, “I’m sorry about yesterday. I guess I got really overwhelmed.”   
“Is it because of me?”   
I creased my eyebrows at him, caught off-guard by his inquiry. “No, why?”   
Tweek pulled at his bottom lip with his fingernails, “It's just… I know that we’re cool and everything, but I also know that me being with Calum really bothers you,” he dropped his hand, sincerity covering his face. “I don’t want to be the reason my best friend is so upset.”   
The topic made me numb. I avoided his eyes, knowing he could read me equally as well as I could him. I did my best to dance around the truth, “I’m sorry about yesterday, Tweek, it’s only that it’s frustrating to see you keep going back to him no matter how many times he hurt you.”   
Tweek hummed, seemingly skimming over my answer completely, “Are you sure there isn’t anything else that’s bothering you? Anything at all? Nothing you need to tell me?”   
“Uh, nope, not really… why?” I asked, my heartbeat picking up.   
Tweek paused, as if trying to detect the truth in my voice and my face. Finally, he said, “No reason. I just want you to know that I’m here for you, Craig,” he paused again to lay his hand over mine, “You could tell me absolutely anything, okay?”   
“Thanks, man,” I said, suspicion laced in my tone. “You sure there’s nothing you want to say?”   
“No, no, not at all!” Tweek assured me a little too quickly. He popped up to flip off my flush mount light, leaving the room illuminated only by my multi-colored stars and planets glow-in-the-dark stickers that had been stuck up there since childhood. He made me melt when he joined me beneath the covers and wiggled closer to me. “Let’s get some sleep, alright?”  
“Yeah, sure. Thanks for staying with me,” I made the mistake of turning to find his face dangerously close to mine.   
He grinned at me before interlocking our arms, “I’ll always be here.”   
I hoped he didn’t notice my discomfort caused by the proximity and location of our bodies. Certain fantasies that littered my brain only made it worse. Thankfully, my extreme level of exhaustion took over my angsty teenage needs and I drifted off to a very comfortable sleep in virtually no time.

_ 

It took blood, sweat, dedication, and an absurd amount of coffee, but we all made it; Exams and the semester were over. There was only one day between the testing period and Christmas Break, which meant a day of relaxation in all of the classes I attended. Words cannot even begin to express the weight that was removed from my shaky hold when I finally finished my last unnecessarily lengthy test. Now I had a five month span before I had to restart this entire stress-retaining, psychologically crippling process. I only hoped it wouldn’t end with Kenny and I taking turns attempting to knock the teeth out of each other’s heads. My eyebrow still had not completely healed itself.   
Another good thing about my life was a bustling Tweek. While I disapproved of his third reunion with Calum, he was back to fluttering around with an adorable grin plastered across his face and a mug of coffee in his hand as he used to. Of course, there would always be few times where he wasn’t panicking about something that was more a figment of his imagination than anything. But he was happy, and that was the most important thing.  
Tweek finally accepted the request to hang out with me and the guys, so we headed to Stan’s house after our last club meetings of the semester. I had ended up talking to Cartman during photography club since my bad ending with Thomas. It was hard to remind myself that I was responsible for fucking up that relationship due to how cold he acts towards me, but I would probably react the same way in his shoes. Apparently I am not perfect.   
“I can’t believe how fucking cold God lets the Earth get.” Tweek complained through chattering teeth as we walked. He glared at my amused smirk and crinkled his eyebrows together, “I’m serious! I lost all feeling in my toes!”   
“Maybe you shouldn’t wear Vans in the winter, then.” I suggested hypocritically after knocking on the wooden door of Stan’s house.   
Tweek pouted a lip, “I lost my boots.”   
“Come in!” I discerned as Kyle’s voice bellowing from the inside of the house, out of breath.   
Twisting the knob, we stepped in as the door opened to reveal Kyle, Stan, and Cartman bent over one another on a Twister mat as Kenny called out positions and colors. Tweek and I exchanged amused glances as the four of them went about their game as if it was stereotypical teenage boy behavior to be expected.   
“Right hand blue,” Kenny announced after flicking the black arrow.   
Stan groaned, “Shit, that’s right under Cartman’s ass!”   
“How… The fuck… Do people hold themselves… Hold themselves up for this fucking long?” Cartman strained, obviously too preoccupied with the mere challenge of remaining upright to acknowledge Stan’s disgruntlement with the placement of his hand in relation to his backside.   
“Bet ten Cartman collapses within the next two rounds.” I snorted to Tweek as we removed our heavy winter coats.   
Tweek hummed, scrutinizing the players as they squirmed and attentively waited for Kenny to bark the next direction. “I think Kyle’s gonna be the first to go out. He’s the least coordinated.”   
“Being in the middle of a Twister game doesn’t make me impervious to hearing your doubts, Tweek. You’re just mad I crossed you out of your shoes in basketball the other day.” Kyle let him know, although still not paying full attention. He was like a mother; eyes and ears everywhere.   
Tweek groaned, “That’s true, I am still kinda mad about that.”  
I shook my head, “Plus, Kyle’s too competitive to lose anything.”   
As if on cue, Kyle outstretched his arm in attempts to curve around Stan’s back and reach a red circle with his right foot, his other leg giving out in the process. He toppled shamefully to the ground and cursed loudly, “Fucking shit!”   
“Hah! You owe me ten bucks, Craig.” Tweek exclaimed with a snarky expression.   
I narrowed my eyes, “I’ve bought you more than ten bucks worth of coffee in your lifetime, we’re even.”   
“Don’t fucking bet on me!” Kyle, the sore loser, cried as he sat beside Kenny on the couch as he continued to spit out whatever the spinning card told him to.   
“Right foot yellow—oh, shit, Stan, that’s gonna be fuckin’ hard,” Kenny laughed as he realize that Stan would have to completely turn his body around.   
Stan narrowed his eyes, assuring us by saying, “I got this.”   
He carefully shifted without lifting any other extremity until his pointed toes made direct contact with the yellow circle. Meanwhile, all Cartman had to do was move his foot up. Their faces were practically touching at the point, but neither seemed to be as worried nor grossed out as they should, had they not been in the depth of an intense battle.   
“Alright—left hand green.”   
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Stan groaned, and picked up his left hand from its previous position on a yellow dot. It was quite evident that his energy and determination were both being challenged, but similarly to Kyle, he had a strong competitive spirit.   
Cartman chuckled, “All these are so easy, I’m totally gonna win.”   
“I honestly don’t know how you’re managing to keep four-hundred pounds upright, but it is pretty impressive, I’ll give you that.” Stan retorted.   
“Aye! I’m not even three-hundred, you piece of shit!”   
Stan snorted, “Could’ve fooled me. Your ass alone has to be at least fifty.”   
“Shut the fuck up!” Cartman growled, lifting a hand from its circle and harshly pushing Stan’s balanced body over.   
“Dude, weak!” Stan groaned, pushing him back after he propped himself up.   
Kenny laughed at the physical altercation that broke out shortly after Stan’s retaliating shove, “Well, looks like Stan’s the winner.”   
“The what?! Stan?! That butthole intentionally antagonized me! That’s a flag!” Cartman disagreed, jolting upward and addressing the pseudo-referee.   
Kenny shrugged, “You took your hand off the mat first, dude.”   
“This is bullcrap! Fuck you, Stan, I hope you break your arm again!”   
Stan just chuckled and rolled his eyes and the Twister mat simultaneously, “Don’t be a fucking crybaby, that was your third loss in a row. What does that tell us about you?”   
“That I’m surrounded by assholes that want me to fail in life.” Cartman grumbled, slumping beside Kyle and crossing his thick arms over his chest.   
I glanced down at Tweek, who was staring intently at his phone screen, a grin curling his lips. My heart throbbed, knowing that it was Calum that was causing him to smile like that. My throat felt dry. “I’m grabbing a water bottle, anyone want anything?” I announced as I trekked towards the kitchen. While it was more of an empty offer than anything, everyone barked orders at the back of my head and I couldn’t recall a single one of them besides Tweek’s voice shouting, ‘coffee’.  
Thankfully Kyle came into the room after two minutes of me not being able to figure out Stan’s coffee machine. When I glanced up to identify the other new presence, I saw that his face was wearing a combination of pity and concern. I wanted neither from him as I knew exactly what caused them.   
“How the fuck does this work? I put the water in but nothing’s happening.”   
Kyle scoffed, “Craig—you just filled the pot with water. You have to put it in the top so that it strains through the coffee beans.”   
Genuinely confused, I watched Kyle lift the glass pot from its slot and flipped the plastic top open. As he poured the water into its apparently rightful place, he inquired, “Is he back with Calum?”   
“Who cares?” I returned quickly.   
Kyle glanced at me knowingly, “You do, obviously. What are you going to do?”   
“What is there to do?” I wondered, finding it more difficult than I thought it would be to maintain an emotionless demeanor. “He’ll date who he wants. There isn’t anything I can do about that.”   
“Maybe you would if you would talk to him—“   
“Kyle, c’mon, dude,” I interjected, lifting my gaze and focusing it on him. “Really look at this situation. If I had a chance with Tweek, it would have happened by now. Anything would have happened by now. He’s all about Calum, okay, not me. And it sucks but I can’t change how he feels. And neither can he.”   
He shook his head, “Craig, I’m serious! I don’t think this is one-sided. You both look at each other the same way. I think he’s just afraid.”   
“Why in hell would he be more afraid of me than Calum? He’s kind of the emotionally manipulative, suicidal, accusatory piece of trash.”   
Kyle nodded in agreement. “Exactly what Tweek feels like he deserves. Of course he cares a lot about Calum, but he’s been losing those feelings for a long time. He doesn’t want to be with someone actually good for him, because in his mind, it’ll confirm that he’s not stable enough for or worthy of a healthy relationship. He’s afraid of being in love with you because it would be real to him, and reality has always scared him before. Plus, he’s probably afraid Calum will kill himself,” My heart pounded with each word, but I took it as Kyle assuming that he’s automatically right about everything. However, he caught me all the way off guard when he said, “It’s amazing what someone tells you at three in the morning after their best friend showed up at their house fucked up on Adderall and professed their love to them.”   
“What the fuck are you talking about, Kyle? I told him I love him?” My tone was lower and my voice was serious.   
Kyle hummed, signifying uncertainty. He reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a couple cans of soda. I swallowed hard when he addressed me again, “I don’t know. Talk to him about it.”   
“Motherfucker,” I grumbled under my breath as I watched Kyle retreat into the other room. Of course he had to be cryptic and make me actually put forth effort into sorting out my feelings.   
I couldn’t deny the tiny seed of hope that had been planted inside of me. I replayed Kyle’s analysis over and over again in my head as I watched a steady stream of coffee drop into the pot. My mind wandered to Tweek standing before his own coffee pot every morning, anxiously waiting for his elixir to be brewed and guzzled down. I was very familiar with his extensive coffee mug collection due to the fact that I was a main contributor. I pictured him curled up beside me with a cup of steaming liquid in his ‘Java Jockey’ mug that I bought him when we were ten. That item was his prized possession for so long.   
When the coffee was done, I carefully pulled the glass pot from the small burner and poured a stream into a light blue mug. After doing so, I solidified my story by removing a bottle from the fridge and shuffling back into the other room, where I found Tweek still hunched over his cell phone.   
I was reading way too far into the curve of his lips at the screen before him, but I couldn’t control my thoughts, especially after Kyle suggested that Tweek returns my feelings. Every movement became a noteworthy action that I needed to analyze and consider.   
“Here you go, Tweekers.” I obtained his attention by outstretching the coffee-holding hand towards him.   
Tweek flicked his eyes from his phone instantly, removing the mug from my grasp, “You’re the best, Craig.”   
I grinned, ruffling his hair, “Yeah, I know.”  
I claimed the loveseat cushion beside Tweek and stole discreet glances at him sipping cautiously at his caffeinated beverage. The sleeves of his shirt were too long for him, so they came up to his knuckles and when his mouth wasn’t occupied with his drink, he would chewed on the excess fabric and go back and forth between watching each other take turns during a Super Smash Bros tournament with the rest of us and whatever he was so pleased with on his iPhone. A few strands of his bright blond hair were dipping across his eyes, and he’d flick his head every once in a while in attempts to remove them from his line of sight. Often, I was caught staring and had to play it off as a casual glance, but he would always offer me a smile with his eyes or lips.   
“Holy shit, do you remember this, Craig?” Tweek addressed me with a chuckle. He leaned his body into mine and directed his screen towards my face.   
I squinted to see a photograph of the two of us from several years ago. I was lying dormant across the Tweak’s coffee table with a Terrance and Phillip sheet covering my body. Tweek stood beside me in a doctor’s costume and a couple of plastic tools in his hand. His cheeks and lips were covered in chocolate ice cream, his bowl resting on my chest.   
I laughed aloud, “That was a really intense fake surgery. Where’d you get this?”   
“My mom and I were going through a bunch of old pictures of us, I saved them onto my phone,” Tweek revealed. He clicked back to the full album and showed me a plethora of pictures of the two of us, some including Token and Clyde, but a majority of them depicting the two of us hugging, playing, laughing, smiling, or dressed up. “We had so much fun back then.”   
“Yeah,” I agreed absentmindedly, staring at him as he happily glided his thumb through photos representing our close bond. My chest swelled with a warm, overwhelming feeling. Tweek had been so smiley because of me—because of us. Not Calum, or any other guy, just me. “We were fucking weird, though.”   
“Oh, you guys were weird kids?” Cartman scoffed. “Do I need to remind you about the time that Stan and Kyle found a dude frozen in ice and got into a huge fight about whether his name should be Steve or Gorack?”   
“Coming from the kid that joined NAMBLA because he thought he was too mature for us.” Kenny interjected with a smirk.   
Cartman began to say something, but conceited to the point, “Yeah, that was pretty fucked up.”   
We shared a laugh before Tweek and I went back to focusing on our old photographs. There were so many, all of them taken from a photo album onto Tweek’s phone. I began to wonder if it was possible to have loved him all along, and vice versa, because somehow I felt as if I somehow knew how I would one day feel about the boy beside me in all those pictures.


	25. Chapter 25

Once again, I was doing my best to avoid Tweek—or, at least being alone with him. It was difficult to face him knowing he was aware of my feelings for him. Not only was it merely embarrassing, but it also hurt to know he was completely ignoring it. I decided it was best to not bring it up; although, occasionally it seemed as though he was trying to extract a confession from me.

On Christmas Eve, I could no longer keep my distance. It was a tradition of ours to exchange gifts on the pseudo-holiday before going off to visit extended family. I had purchased him a huge book of Elton John piano sheet music, as that was his favorite artist. Checking my phone, I saw that it was time to head over to meet Tweek. I threw on a coat, grabbed the box my mom wrapped for me, took a deep breath, and headed out the door.

  
Houses all down the block were dressed for the holiday seasons; bright lights and tacky lawn ornaments littered the lawns and houses, aside from the easily recognizable Broflovksi’s with their simple Hanukah string decoration. My mind raced with the possibility of finally being confronted by my best friend, though I tried my hardest to push them away and allow myself to become excited to open my present from Tweek; he was really good at giving gifts, even though they were always small things due to the fact that our allowances were our only source of income.

  
When I made it to the park, I found Tweek sitting on our usual bench beside a large spruce tree. He was shivering despite being bundled up, including a tan slouch beanie hiding his blond hair. When he saw me, he greeted, “Hey, man, how was your grandma’s?”

Taking my place beside him on the cold, wooden seat, I replied, “Not bad, I guess. I got a gift card for the arcade if you wanna go with me after Christmas.”

  
“Sure, we haven’t been in a while,” he agreed as he reached into his coat and pulled out an envelope. He smiled at me, “Do you wanna go first or should I?”

  
“You went first last year,” I answered, handing him the decorative box.

  
Tweek gave me the envelope meant for me and removed a glove before tearing into the wrapping paper. Eventually, there was a crumpled mess beside us and a beaming Tweek, “Craig, this is awesome! I’ve been wanting more music to play for a while!”

  
“You can only have it if you promise to play me ‘Bennie and the Jets’ at some point,” I joked as he flipped through the book.

  
“Yeah, I’m not that good, that’ll be a while. Open your’s!” I did as he demanded and gingerly slid my finger beneath the flap of the white envelope. The front of the card was printed with a guinea pig in a Christmas hat, which made me grin. As I went to open it, two long pieces of paper fell into my lap. As I reached for them, Tweek grasped the card from my hands. He explained, “I wrote you a note, but I don’t want you to read it in front of me.”

  
My heart dropped at the thought of what the note could possibly say, but I remained nonchalant and distracted myself with examining the present. “No way, when is this?!” I cheered, realizing Tweek had gifted me two tickets to a planetarium show.

  
“It’s next month,” Tweek answered proudly, “And they’re giving away free t-shirts!”

  
“I love space and free shit.”

  
“I know!” My friend exclaimed, leaning over to grant me a hug. “Thank you, Craig!”

  
I returned the gesture, breathing in the smell of him, “Thank you, too, you’re the best.”

  
When we withdrew from one another he asked, “You ready to head back? I’m freezing!”

  
I had barely noticed the weather since I had approached my crush, but I agreed that the weather was harsh, and we stood to exit the park. Tweek stuffed the wrapping paper into a trash can on our way out, and then leaned into me as we continued wandering back to the neighborhood. He peered up at me, asking for affirmation, “Did I do good?”

“Yeah, I’ve been wanting to go to one of those for a while. It’s going to be awesome.” I assured him, my mind preoccupied with thoughts of the note.

Tweek smiled and dug his hands into his coat-pocket. “My mom and dad let me open a gift early today, they got me 2k17! I already told Kyle, he’s gonna come over and play it sometime during break if you wanna join. I know you aren’t huge on basketball, though, so don’t feel like you have to.”

  
“Sure, that’s cool. I’ll come hang out,” I said.

  
Tweek’s face fell, and he stopped me in my tracks, “Craig, I know something’s bugging you, can you please just tell me?”

  
His questioning caught me slightly off guard. I forced myself to feign for calmness and granted him a confused expression, “I’m fine, Tweek, seriously. If anything, just a little tired, that’s all.”

  
My friend continued to wear a disbelieving look as we continued to walk. He seemed to give in to my mistruth as he suggested, “Wanna come over for some coffee?”

  
I shook my head, “I can’t, we’re heading out soon. Thanks though.”

  
As we reached Tweek’s home, I turned to wish him a happy holiday and was met by a fierce hug. I wrapped my arms around him for the second time that day, this time remaining there considerably longer. Several different emotions were erupting from within me and while I was eager to be alone and read the note, I would never have turned down a long, warm embrace from Tweek.

  
He drew back just enough to gaze into my eyes and I silently choked at our intoxicatingly close proximity. “You know you’re my best friend in the world, right?” I nodded stupidly, mesmerized by his big, beautiful eyes. He grinned softly—almost sadly—at me and released me from his hold. “Merry Christmas, Craig.”

“Merry Christmas,” I returned. As soon as he disappeared behind the front door, I took off in a brisk walk toward my house. I bypassed my mom asking me if I was ready and my dad wondering where his socks were with quick, uninterested responses before finally making it to the seclusion of my bedroom. I pushed my door closed and plopped down on my bed, pulling out the envelope and setting the planetarium tickets on my nightstand. The inside of the card was covered in Tweek’s distinctive scrawl. I read each word as if it was my favorite Bible verse:

  
 _Craig,_  
 _You probably know by now what you told me that night you came to my house at 2 am. I told Kyle because I was sort of freaking out, and I don’t really trust any of them to keep a secret. Anyways I just wanted to talk about it once and for all. I know how private of a person you are so I thought this might be a nice way of doing it. I wrote and rewrote this a hundred times so I really hope it all makes sense. I just want to say that I love you, too, Craig. I don’t know what kind of love I have for you, but I do know it has always been so special for me. It became even more special when you told me you loved me, so I hope you don’t_ _think it made anything weird for me. It means the world to me that you have those feelings. I feel so sad that I’m not in a place to return them to you, because I care about you so much and I want you to be nothing but happy. Thank you so much for loving me, Craig and I’m so sorry that I have to disappoint you. If you want to talk about it, I’m here for you, but I also understand if you don’t. Just please let me know that everything is okay between us whenever you’re ready._  
 _Merry Christmas,_  
 _Your BFF, Tweek_

  
I read the note over and over again, and odd sense of emptiness and closure washing over me. While it seems that Tweek’s feelings are confused, it’s clear that his love for Calum will be keeping him from exploring any possibilities with me. My chest hurt from the rejection, but I kept myself from crumbling by reminding myself that Tweek does love and care for me. It may not be in the way I desperately wanted, but it counted for something. It also felt extremely relieving to have my confession acknowledged, although it was absolutely mortifying and daunting.  
It was certainly my most reflective Christmas the following day.  
_  
March marked three more months of sophomore year. School was irritating in the way that I was just starting to get the hang of things academically in time for the term to be over, rendering me useless and clueless for next year. I had been spending all my days with my newly founded friend group and grew a little closer to them all the time. I no longer worried about not being assimilated into the group dynamic and instead had fun with them.  
My relationship with Tweek remained intact as well, but unfortunately, there would always be an undeniable barrier when he was in a relationship with Calum. Even more unfortunately, he had been steadily declining in terms of happiness for a month now. I tried my best not to hate Calum, but the fact that they were dating and he was the one who got to kiss and hold him at the end of the day would never be easy for me to swallow for two reasons: I knew Calum also intentionally caused him emotional pain in order to twist his insecurities into an obligation to stay with him and enable him, and because I desperately wished it was me.  
Although various aspects of the year remained stressful for me, I didn’t turn to alcohol and pills for solace anymore. The platonic pounding and heartfelt talk I had with Kenny the day after I forced Adderall into my system really stuck with me; it let me know that it’s not the worst thing in the world to express how you feel from time to time, which had previously been a completely foreign concept to me. However, I won’t deny being Kenny’s occasional bud buddy.  
It was a Friday afternoon and I was bullshitting my way through some weekend homework before heading off to Kyle’s house to meet up with the guys. In the midst of a very confusing dimensional analysis problem, my cell phone vibrated beside my worksheet with a call. I stowed my gaze to the buzzing device to find Tweek’s face and name illuminating the screen. I scooped up the phone and pressed it to my ear, “Yeah?”  
“Dude, Calum is going to make me lose my fucking mind.”  
I snorted and reclined in my chair, “My new favorite greeting.”  
Tweek, obviously very frustrated with his boyfriend, grunted dramatically from the other line, “He’s been freaking out so much lately about who I hang out with and whether or not they’re interested in me and if I’m going to fucking cheat on him. He’s so paranoid! Like, he thinks I’m actually the type of person to cheat on someone!”  
I shut my textbook, “He’s delusional.”  
“We’ve been getting into so many fights lately… I don’t know what I should do, Craig. I honestly just… I don’t want to be in a relationship like this anymore…”  
Morbid excitement was bubbling within me. I raised my eyebrows, choosing my wording somewhat delicately, “Do you think you might want a break from him?”  
“It’s just so much fucking drama, Craig… I don’t even know. Nothing I ever do seems to be good enough for him. It feels like he wants me to be this perfect little robot that just follows him around and caters to his every whim.”  
“Because he does. How many times have I told you this?”  
“At least two…”  
I chuckled, “Well, you’re not wrong. But, in all seriousness, Tweeks, if it’s making you this stressed out, you should end it. It’s not good for you or your anxiety, especially with him accusing you of things now.”  
“I just don’t know how to end things… I don’t want everyone to think I’m a dick and hate me again! I hated walking in the halls when everyone thought I hit Calum… too much pressure.”  
“It’s okay, Tweek, me and the guys are always going to be there to back you up. We know what actually goes on.”  
Tweek let out a shaky sigh, “I just can’t handle any trouble or any fight.”  
“It doesn’t have to be like that, dude. Just tell him straight up. If anyone gets pissed at you, it’s on them.”  
He paused on the other line for a long moment. I swallowed and wondered if I should fill the silence, but just as I was considering a follow-up line, Tweek spoke in a weak tone, “I don’t know how to not be with him anymore, either. I-I just feel like I can’t be without him… I honestly don’t even know if I would see this if we weren’t fighting so much. I don’t know… Thanks for talking this out with me, Craig. You’re, like, my everything, you know?”  
His wording made my stomach twist, a concurrently pleasant and sickening feeling. “Uh, no problem, bro.”  
“I’m gonna go figure out what the fuck I’m gonna do.”  
With that being said, we disconnected, and I let out a long groan. Why did he have to say things like that? Without a moment to retrain my brain into chemistry mode, a text from Mama Broflovski popped up on my phone. It read; ‘Dude come over!! We have something HUGE to tell you!!’  
I moaned, plagued with sudden slothfulness and the distaste for leaving my home. Nonetheless, I assured Kyle that I’d be over at his house sooner than I planned to be. The unknown news was my only incentive for getting up.  
After pulling on my coat and shoes, I announced to my mom that I would be out for a while. Although there were now intermittent days of merely chilly weather opposed to bitter cold, the ground remained littered with slow, causing each of my steps to leave imprints. When I reached Kyle’s home, it was a millisecond before the door was swung open and I was dragged inside. Eyes widened, I scanned my surrounding friends, each of which had a combination of scandalous and joyful expressions. All besides Butters’s less familiar face, who seemed deeply worried despite the comforting arm Kenny had wrapped around his narrow shoulders.  
“What’s going on?” I inquired, feeling as if I had just walked into some kind of intervention.  
“Butters, you tell him, you saw it,” Stan suggested and gestured for Butters to speak.  
The tiny boy’s eyelids separated dramatically, “I don’t wanna be the one responsible for Craig’s first homicide!”  
“First?” Kenny wondered, “Is there gonna be more?”  
I cocked my head to the side, “Okay, why am I a murderer now?”  
Kyle, Stan, Kenny, and Butters all exchanged anxious looks before Cartman decided the Band-Aid needed snatched off. He exhaled, “Butters saw Calum making out with some chick that is definitely not Tweek at the mall and he took pictures because he’s creepy as fuck and wants to ruin relationships.”  
“Stick it in your ear, Eric! I just didn’t know what to do! I think Tweek’s got a right to know if he’s being cheated on,” came Butters’s rebuttal as he glared at Cartman.  
Kyle offered me an unsure smile, “You need to tell him, dude. Maybe this will be the last straw.”  
It took a moment for this flood of information to sink in. As much as it didn’t surprise me in the least I shuddered to imagine Tweek’s reaction. He had a wide array of emotional outbursts, each one equally dramatic as the next. I prayed that when I told him he would not lock himself in his closet or refuse to eat. These possibilities kept me from being more wrathful towards Calum than I already was, yet ecstatic that he was caught cheating.  
“Let me see the pictures,” I told Butters, stalking across the room.  
Butters was so much shorter than me that I had to take a seat on the arm of the pleather sofa in order to be able to reach eye level with his phone. Surely enough, he swiped through a couple stalker photographs depicting Tweek’s boyfriend rubbing tongues with a brunette—which was not the most obvious clue that it was not Tweek. The other defining feature between the two of them was the fact that they were the opposite sex.  
I squinted in disbelief at the photographic evidence before me, “What a scumbag.”  
“I thought he was gay,” Cartman brought up confusedly.  
“No, he’s bi.” I corrected. “The girl aspect of this is not what surprises me, it’s that he is willing to cheat on Tweek in broad fucking daylight.  
“It makes sense, when you think about it,” Kyle began, “He’s been so paranoid about Tweek being disloyal lately, because that’s exactly what he was doing.”  
I rubbed the bridge of my nose, inhaling deeply, “I guess I should tell him as soon as possible. I mean, he had been thinking about ending things anyway. They’ve been fighting nonstop.”  
Kenny grinned half-heartedly, “Go deliver bad news!”  
_  
Since Tweek couldn’t see me in person the night before and I would have felt wrong to inform him of his boyfriend’s infidelity over text, the information sat with me all night, like a hot stone resting on my chest. For some odd reason a steady stream of guilt was trickling through me, though I did nothing wrong. In fact, I had been encouraging Tweek to terminate this relationship since it began. I was only very against the possibility of hurting my best friend in any way.  
As relaying this information was my main priority of the day, I approached Tweek the instant I saw him standing at the bus stop. It was a huge relief that Calum was taken to school every morning by his mother and I had plenty of time to freely explain what I knew before Tweek even came into contact with his shitty choice in significant other.  
“Hey, dude,” Tweek greeted from behind a to-go mug filled with coffee. His expression contorted into a concerned one when he scrutinized my face. “What’s wrong?”  
“Uh, nothing… There’s just kind of something I need to show you.” I sighed, biting down on my bottom lip.  
“Okay…” Tweek agreed, his tone questioning as I removed my iPhone from the back pocket of my sweatpants. I clicked on the image attachments that my favorite sleuth, Butters, obtained and granted Tweek a grave look before revealing them. He crinkled his nose at me, “C’mon, Craig, now I have to know!”  
I sighed, “I know you do… Just, please don’t freak out. At least, not here. Wait until you’re not in public.”  
Remaining in a state of aggravating ignorance, Tweek snatched my phone from my hand and focused his gape on the picture of his boyfriend feeling up a mystery girl. His pale cheeks gradually became deeper and deeper shades of crimson. There was no way to pinpoint his exact feelings of this betrayal, because he clamped his jaw shut and silently returned my phone to my hand.  
I swallowed the lump in my throat, “You okay, Tweeks?”  
Tweek merely nodded. I asked for confirmation and again, he terrified me with a wide smile and equally wide eyes, “I’m great.”  
After that, we waited in eerie quiet until the bus rolled up before us. We mounted it and headed to the back, with still no words passed.  
“Hey, dudes,” Kenny greeted with his signature cheeky grin. The smile swiftly faded, however, when he took into account my uncomfortable expression and Tweek’s stoic one. I shrugged my shoulders at him and slotted into the seat beside Tweek.  
“Hey… You going to say anything?” I asked a few more moments of uncomfortable silence. Tweek scarcely nodded yet again before casting his gaze out the window, watching as our familiar old town zoomed past us. I elected to leave it at that as to not enrage or upset him any further.  
When we pulled into the school parking lot and came to a complete stop, Tweek shot up like a rocket. Nostrils flared and jaw set tightly, he brushed past me swiftly and did so with the rest of our peers impeding his path. I snapped my neck around to consider Kenny, Stan, Kyle, and Cartman’s unsure expressions. Stan was the only one to suggest, “Dude, you should probably go make sure he doesn’t commit his first homicide.”  
In nonverbal agreement with Stan’s statement, I turned and headed out as fast as I could, trotting to meet up with Tweek as he stormed towards the entrance of South Park High. “Where are you going?” I asked.  
“School.” Tweek spat back through gritted teeth.  
“Clearly,” I sighed. “Are you going to go talk to him?”  
Again, no reply. Tweek was on a warpath and I had no idea what his intentions were. I shadowed him through the corridors of our bustling little school with my heart pounding a bit swifter in my chest. Tweek’s fists were balled at his side and his face possessed unyielding fury etched into his otherwise soft and kind features.  
My stomach churned unpleasantly when the root of Tweek’s out-of-character behavior. The two made eye contact, Calum throwing him a disinterested grin. “Hey, sorry I missed you yesterday, I was—“  
“I know,” Tweek interjected. Without any explanation or deep reveal, the blond cocked his fist and smashed it right into Calum’s face.  
“Shit!” Calum cursed after collapsing against the lockers behind him. He lifted a hand to search for blood, found none, but instead another harsh blow to the face from Tweek.  
“Craig, what the fuck! Stop him!” Calum’s friend beckoned me in a squealing tone, flinching at the next punch Calum received.  
I couldn’t have if I wanted to—I was completely dumbstruck. It was as if I was frozen behind a force field and was unable to move or interact with the outside word. I could only watch, and I had been dying to see such a sight for a long time.  
“Oh my god! Tweek’s kicking the shit out of him!” Cartman exclaimed, followed by a loud chuckle.  
Stan’s blue eyes were saucers, “Dude, this is pretty fucked up right here.”  
Students surrounding us began to flock to the sight of action as Tweek and Calum began to wrestle vigorously, Tweek the obvious dominator. I flinched each time Calum attempted or fulfilled a swing, but Tweek was shockingly proficient in defending himself and delivering somewhat painful offensive moves.  
“What on Earth is going on here?!” Mr. Garrison called, horror written onto his wrinkling face. “Tweek, stop beating your boyfriend!”  
“He’s not my fucking boyfriend!” Tweek shot back defiantly, granting Calum one last kick to the stomach before our long-term teacher encased him around his middle and cast him away, kicking and fussing to get free. “Are you happy now, Calum?! Now it won’t be a fucking lie when you tell everyone I beat you! Fuck you!”  
After I no longer had visual on Tweek, I turned to see the crumpled pile of Calum on the ground. He was huddled in a fetal position, a couple girls flocking to his pathetic rescue. I knit my eyebrows together and stalked to his side, leaning down to meet his scarcely battered face, “You ever come near Tweek again, Kenny and I will be the ones throwing those punches.”  
Calum swallowed hard and glared daggers at me, although I could tell by the pleading look in his eyes that he received the message. I gave him a condescending pat on the head before standing and turning to my friends with a prideful grin across my lips. “Dude… that was pretty fucking awesome.”  
“Hell yeah it was! Did you see that tiny little string bean go ballistic?! We need to start a fight club!” Kenny shared my enthusiasm, but was quickly extinguished when we were pinned with Kyle’s evil, matronly stare.  
Kyle folded his arms across his chest, “What is wrong with you?! You guys do realize he’s going to be suspended for ten days right? Maybe even charged with assault. That was the stupidest thing he could have done!”  
“Oh, would you relax,” Cartman coaxed, obviously amused by the spectacle as well. “You can’t deny that it was totally due.”  
Kyle glared at him for a moment before sighing, giving in, “It was really nice to watch that smug smile get punched off his face.”  
“Right! And knew Tweek of all people would rise to the goddamn occasion. I thought Craig would for sure be the one to smash his teeth in,” Kenny replied animatedly. “I hope someone videotaped that. I would watch it again twelve times. Check that—I would watch that again thirteen times.”  
Despite the relief and pleasure I had in the fact that Tweek punched and broke up with Calum, Kyle’s point remained valid. To the administration it would not matter why Tweek picked a fight, he did and he won. There’s no doubt he would be heavily reprimanded.  
While that thought was not exactly pleasant, the buzz that Tweek had finally risen above his oppression and taken back his dignity was spreading around the school like a wildfire. People were proud of him, insulting Calum and apologizing for ever thinking Tweek was in the wrong with their relationship.  
Tweek was finally free.

_

“What the fuck?” I questioned instantly when I found Tweek slumped against the side of his house, a cigarette burning between his fingers. “You’re smoking now?”  
“Oh, hey, Craig,” He greeted, screwing his green eyes up to me. “Kenny said it calms him down, but I haven’t been able to suck in without coughing.”  
I grinned at his nativity, plucking it from his hand on my way down beside him. I tapped it out and flicked it away, turning to find his slightly offended gaze staring at me. “You don’t have to start smoking now that you’re a badass.”  
Tweek smirked, “I’m definitely not a badass. Although, this busted lip makes me feel pretty official.”  
“Ah, there you go,” I nodded as he turned his head to show me his battle wound. “Mark of a thug.”  
He laughed momentarily before going out of focus. Hugging himself, he said, “I’m suspended for three days. It’s supposed to be ten, but, y’know… Gay.”  
Aware of our special treatment, I hummed in acknowledgement. “Are your parents pissed?”  
“Calum’s mom is, but my mom thought he deserved it. I don’t think I’ll get in any more trouble.”  
We both fell silent for a minute, staring at nothing ahead of us. There was a steady breeze whipping Tweek’s naturally chaotic blond locks while my dark fringe remained protected beneath a hat. My heart clenched when he scooted closer to me and laid his head against my shoulder. Now hyperaware of my senses, I leaned down a bit to accommodate him more.  
“Craig… I know I went a little overboard, but I… I couldn’t have done it if it weren’t for you… Thank you.” Tweek spoke up.  
As I could feel his stare against the side of my face, I craned my neck to the side to gaze right back at him. My breath got caught in my throat again thanks to those gorgeous green eyes that I never grew bored of. “All I did was show you a picture, but you’re welcome.”  
“No, you do so much more for me, Craig. You made me believe in myself in a way that nobody else has before, that I matter.” Tweek revealed in a very serious tone. I thought for a moment he might be in tears. “I’ve wasted so much time on someone that made me feel like I was just… nothing. I had already thought that anyways. I feel so much… So, so liberated, I guess. I feel like I can be a person again.”  
“You are a person, Tweek. You’re the best person.” I promised him, somewhat awkwardly curling my arm around the small of his back. Much to my amazement, he curled into me and replaced his forehead against my chest. A bit nervous that he would hear how hard my heart was pounding, I distracted myself by gingerly combing my fingers through his thick, soft hair.  
We didn’t say anything else—just sat like that for a good half hour, enjoying the sounds of the town going on behind us and the warmth of one another’s bodies. I had no clue what that meant in terms of us, but I didn’t care—it was me and Tweek. That would always be enough for me.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for bearing with me, I PROMISE THERE IS CREEK IN THIS CHAPTER, and i'm sorry that me from the past made u wait so long but I also added a bunch more tweek scenes so you're welcome if you end up liking it, and if there's any typos i don't care bc it's almost one and I'm a tired mom  
> thanks for the reads and kudos and comments tho <3

Summer vacation coming around had never been more relieving. Sophomore year easily took the cake for the worst year of my life in my many ways, but the mere fact that I only had two more years until freedom was enough to be thrilled about. I ended the second semester with a C-average much to my own surprise. It was worse than how I had habitually done in school until that point but nobody was complaining.

The greatest aspect of my life at that time was my increasingly flirtatious relationship with Tweek. Ever since he dumped Calum with finality he had expressed a lot more interest in me. We graduated from the friend-zone to cuddling together while watching Netflix, to holding hands, to spooning while we sleep, to coming so painfully close to kissing that I questioned why I was still too stupid not to.

  
It was the fourth of July, which had always been an oddly big deal in South Park. I suppose it would make sense for a town that was composed of fiercely liberal pseudo activists or white trash rednecks to have the strongest sense of patriotism. There was a huge party going on at the Turner’s, adults and children intermingling. Kenny was dead set on going due to the fact that Heidi’s father was a heavy smoker of his favorite brand of cigarettes, but the rest of us weren’t entirely ecstatic about being surrounded by drunken teachers and parents.

“C’mon, guys, it'll be fun! Heidi's dad smokes Turkish Royals, and he buys cartons at a time!” Kenny begged, refusing to leave the front lawn until we complied. “Do this one thing for me!”

“Babe, you really expect us to support you A, stealing, and B, smoking half a pack of cigarettes a day?” Stan inquired, a cross expression geared towards his boyfriend.

“Yes.” Kenny nodded, sly smile playing across his lips.

Kyle chuckled and shook his head, waving his hand at Kenny. “Go on, Ken. We’ll be back at my house when you’re satisfied.”  
The blond grumbled something about having no support before spinning around and heading towards the overflowing Turner residence.

“There’s no way I'm going in there. Too much drama, with Heidi still wanting to be with me and all.” Cartman declared.

Kyle barked a laugh, "You're delusional. She'd enter a three-way relationship with Stan and Kenny before putting herself through another relationship with _you_."

"Ay!" Cartman exclaimed, indignance coloring his cheeks red, "You're just pissed I got into her pants before you did!"

Stan scoffed, “You saw her vagina from across her bedroom with a flashlight for two seconds when you were like, twelve, Cartman. That is not getting into her pants,”

Cartman huffed, “The point still stands! It would just be awkward!”  
“You're awkward, Cartman." I added lamely, doing my best to get him to shut the fuck up already. 

On arriving at Kyle’s, Tweek stopped in his tracks on the front porch and titled his head up towards the night sky. He verbalized his impromptu stopping, “When are the fireworks going to start? I want to make sure I’m inside.”

“Inside for the fireworks?” Stan repeated, confused. “That’s like, the best part.”

Tweek’s eyes went wide, “Dude, no! What if one of them falls on the house and blows us all up?!”

“I’m pretty sure that’s scientifically impossible, Tweeks.” Kyle assured him, leaning against his front door and screwing his eyes up to the blanket of darkness not yet illuminated by variously colored chemical reactions.

“I just don’t get what’s so spectacular about them. They’re all the same.” I added.

Cartman rolled his eyes, “See, you guys, have you not figured it out? This is why Tweek and Craig are in love—Craig’s a boring asshole and doesn’t want to do anything fun, and Tweek’s a spastic asshole that’s afraid of anything fun. A match made in the least exciting portion of Heaven.”

“To be fair, if I only liked boring things, I wouldn’t be in love with Tweek. So,” I lifted my middle finger up at him.

“He’s got a point,” Stan confirmed, patting Tweek on the shoulder, “He’s nothing if not interesting.”

“Uh, thanks?” Tweek confusedly accepted the backhanded compliment. What I had said prior to Stan’s comment hit me when Tweek averted his attention to me with a knowing yet questioning grin. My stomach did a flip, but I smiled back at him anyway.

“According to Google, fireworks start at nine.” Kyle announced after referring to his iPhone. He locked it and peered down at us. “It’s eight-forty. Do you guys just want to wait out here?”  
“Yeah, it feels pretty good out for being in the buttfuck of Colorado.” Stan answered as he planted himself on the porch step.

Tweek lifted his head towards me and scrunched his eyebrows together. Before he even spoke, I knew what he was pleading for. I turned to Kyle and said, “We’re going in when they start.”

“You guys were being serious about that shit?” Cartman scoffed.

I sent him a glare, “I told you guys to stop making fun of me as recompense for robbing me of my birthday money and getting us all stranded Peru.”

“You said you’d stop brining that up!” Kyle interjected before Cartman had the opportunity to rebuttal angrily, “Go on in, as long as you don’t have sex on my couch.”

“Yeah, been there, done that.” Cartman smirked, nudging Kyle with his elbow.

Kyle stuck his tongue out and made a ‘blech’ sound, “Shut up, Cartman, nobody wants to think about you having sex. Which has never even happened,”

“What if they start early?” Tweek whispered to me. He scooted closer to me and frantically searched the sky for fireworks. “What if one of them falls on my head?!”

I shrugged, “I would push Cartman in front of it, then.”

“I’d help. You'd need it to move an ass that fucking huge.” Stan added, laughing at Cartman’s grumbled in protest.

"I'm telling your boyfriend you're flirting with me, Stan! Fuckin' buttholes,"

Big, green eyes flicked up to my face as Tweek gnawed his bottom lip naked of skin. I wished I could take away his paranoia about the Fourth of July festivities. While I unaffectedly thought they were overrated, I wasn’t afraid of them. My mind cued up memories of previous Independence Day celebrations spent huddled inside my bedroom, sharing headphones. Or, outdoors with a panicking Tweek screaming bloody murder after each bang sounded above our heads.

I gingerly tapped Tweek’s rosy cheek, “Don’t worry, we will head in now.”

“See you losers after the awesome display.” Stan said in his own endearing way.

Kyle chuckled, “The only thing South Park gets right.”

I led Tweek into the empty house, pleased to find that it was not inhabited by Kyle’s hormonal teenage brother whom I saw far too much of (he and Ruby had this ugly little quasi relationship going on). We ambled into the kitchen in search of a something to drink. I glanced out the window above the sink as I retrieved glasses for the two of us from the cabinet.

“You can go outside, you know? You don’t have to be stuck in here with me.” Tweek spoke up was I handed him a glass of water. It was typical dialogue for whenever I did anything to accommodate his anxiety in the slightest.

I seated myself across from him and sipped my water before replying, “I told you, I don’t care about fireworks. Besides, I’d rather be with you than do just about anything.”

Tweek grinned bashfully at my comment. He dragged his fingertip through the condensation that built up all along his glass. “I wonder if anyone else in the world is scared of them at sixteen years old.”

I shrugged, “There’s plenty of people who get freaked out by fireworks, Tweek.”

“Yeah, like, babies and dogs.”

“Who cares?” I chuckled. “Those guys are just giving you a hard time, who cares what anyone thinks?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. You and the guys are pretty much the only people I even talk to anymore. Remember when we all would do crazy shit together?” Tweek spoke wistfully.

Although I didn’t understand the root of his nostalgia, I nodded, “Like when we thought a cootie catcher was a future telling device.”

The blond barked a laugh, shaking his head, “We went all the way out for that. Poor Butters was probably happier being a girl than with everything we made him do.”

“Right,” I snorted. “The only other person I’ve even talked to this year was Thomas, and we all know how that turned out.”

Tweek shifted awkwardly, nodding. I lifted a curious eyebrow at how he instantly shut himself up with a long sip of water. I broke the silence, “You okay?”

“Oh, uh, no, yeah, I’m fine,” He fumbled, nodding affirmatively. Flicking his eyes between me and his cup, he finally admitted, “I’m just kinda wondering something…”

My heart started boxing its way out of my ribcage, eyes staring straight ahead into Tweek’s as I struggled to pretend I could breathe easy with him staring at me like that and looking perfect as always in an oversized long sleeved shirt. “Yeah?”  
Tweek paused again, the long transitions almost agonizing. I couldn’t blame him, however. If I made him feel any percentage of what I felt for him he wouldn’t have been able to get a word out. Finally, he verbalized his thoughts, “Did you love Thomas?”

“No,” I easily assured him, “I liked him, but it wasn’t love.”

Tweek gaped at me anxiously before revealing his follow-up question, “What about… I mean, did you mean what you said out there? About, y’know, being in love with me still…”

My belly grew almost as heavy as my chest. A part of me was screaming ‘yes’ but the over-analytical and logical portion of me was generally in control of what I said or did. I clamped my jaw shut inadvertently, as if I had lost the ability to speak. Tweek huffed shakily, “It-It’s okay if you don’t, I’m sorry… I just had to know. I’ve been wondering for a long time.”

“I never said I didn’t.” I told him, trying desperately to swallow the lump in my throat. His perfect face lit back up a bit. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to stare back at me or hide his blushing cheeks. I added, “I mean… it’s kind of obvious, isn’t it?”

A small grin played across his lips as he fiddled with the hem of his shirt, “Honestly, I’ve been thinking about it ever since that night you showed up at my house on Xanax.”

“Adderall, but continue,”

“Same thing. Did you read my note from Christmas?”

“Yeah, of course I did.” I grinned, my pulse heightening with the direction of the conversation.

“Do you remember what you said that night?” I shook my head, and he peered away sheepishly. “You were telling me that you’ve been here the whole time ready to treat me better, and that I made you feel like shit by choosing Calum over you, and that you know I’ll never love you the way you love me,” he stopped momentarily and cast his stare back up at me. Emotions seemed to be rising inside of him as he tactfully went on. “I’m so, so sorry I ever made you feel like that, Craig… I’ve been thinking about it ever since that night, that’s why I wanted to give you that note. You never said anything to me about it, so I’ve never known how to say this until now.”

“Say what?” I choked out. My voice was unreliable with desperation and disbelief. Every nerve in my body was attempting to throw myself at him and encase him in my arms but I needed him to finish explaining himself.

Tweek offered me a weak, yet meaningful smile, his gorgeous eyes soft as they glanced between my meager hazel ones. “That I’m sorry I wouldn’t let myself fall for you before. I was so afraid of letting myself be happy just to be hurt, not being good enough for you, or ruining our friendship that I let myself get into such an awful situation with Calum… but still, you were there for me through the entire thing. No matter what I do, I can count on you.”

My stomach clenched pleasantly as he scooted his chair in my direction. Gradually, he raised his hand to my face and cupped my cheek in his cold hand. I didn’t mind the temperature; it was my favorite feeling. He exhaled, almost shakily, “You’re so fucking handsome, Craig. God, I could stare at you for hours.”

I instinctively leaned into his touch as my legs scooted closer to him. I took my time and savored every second of this moment, as I had spent so much time imagining it. Lifting my hand to my face, I slid my fingers over his and shut my eyes, finally allowing that smile to stretch my lips. “You’re fucking perfect.”

“Would you believe me,” Tweek wondered in a whisper. I peeled apart my eyelids to see his anxious habit of chewing his lip just before my eyes. “If I told you I love you?”

Just hearing those words coming from him caused me a tsunami of emotions sloshing through my entirety. I tried to find the answers deep in his eyes. They were always how I was able to tell if he was telling the truth, happy, sad, sick, horny—anything. I nodded after a moment and breathed, “Would you if I said it?”

“I don’t know,” Tweek grinned, a hint of mischief in his tone. “I won’t know until I hear you say it.”

I hummed and lifted an eyebrow, “Oh, so you make me wait all this time, and you bring this up, and I still have to be the one to say it first?”

Laughing happily, the blond nodded his head and reeled in closer to me. I couldn’t help the smile that bombarded my features as his voice, so pure and perfect, whispered to me for the first time, in the kitchen of our friend’s house, “I love you so much.”

“God, I love you so fucking much,” I barely finished exhaling. As if a magnetic force pulled us together, we launched forward and pressed our lips together simultaneously. Nothing I had ever experienced would ever be able to compare to the warm embrace of Tweek’s soft, sweet, coffee-flavored lips. I was shaky in the best way possible, scrunching my eyebrows together and cupping his delicately rosy cheeks in my hands. I slid my lips along his slowly, passionately. Every fantasy I ever had of kissing Tweek flashed through my head as if I was some kind of life long ticket scratcher that ended up winning the lottery. Tweek’s hands wrapped around my wrists, urging me to stay in that position.

Our lips slotted together so perfectly that I wondered why we had ever bothered with anyone but each other. In a newfound frenzy to learn every inch of his skin, I fed my fingers through his thick, blond hair, earning a soft moan from the back of his throat. All I wanted to do was hear it over and over again and kiss him for the rest of my life. If some time warp prevented us from moving forward and we were stuck in that moment, I would have been absolutely nothing but happy.

Slowly, reluctantly, we withdrew from another’s embrace. Tweek placed a hand on the back of my neck and kept our foreheads together, our heavy breathing mixing together to fill the otherwise silent room. That is, until the first couple fireworks went off behind our backs.

“Fuck!” Tweek cursed loudly, nearly jumping out of his skin. He stared back at me with wide eyes and an apologetic look. I couldn’t help but smile like an idiot. Nothing more absolutely Tweek could have occurred to break up the moment. Thoughtlessly, I pulled him into another long, loving kiss on the lips. I had a feeling that I wouldn’t be able to get enough of it.

“I feel like in most love stories, the people who kiss during fireworks are outside the house.” Tweek whispered with his nose pressed to mine. I could hear a cute grin in his voice.

I breathed a small laugh, “When have we ever been like most people?”

He chuckled softly, shifting so he could lay his head on my shoulders. I wrapped my arms around his back as his fingertips wiggled their way beneath my hat and gingerly curled around my messy black hair. My fingers traced small circles into his skin. I whispered to him,

“God, I’ve been waiting so fucking long for this.”

“I’m sorry I made it so hard for you… But I do love you, Craig,” Tweek promised, drawing back to address me, “Do you believe me?”  
His deep, gorgeous eyes promised me as well as his words. I hummed, “I believe you, Tweek. I’m just trying to decide if this is even real or not.”

Tweek crinkled his nose at me, “Of course it’s real. I’ve always been obsessed with you. There was a good couple years of my life where you were the only person I would talk to.”

“I’ve just… I just love you so much.” I repeated, letting all my walls come crashing down. I didn’t care that I was vulnerable to him. I was finally getting to express how much he meant to me, and I had had some practice with actually opening up thanks to our new friend group.

Tweek kissed me again, and I melted into the touch of his skin and the feel of his lips. We completely disregarded the continuous banging of explosives in the sky and paid attention to only one another. Needless to say, it was a fireworks display very well spent.  
The show lasted about twenty minutes, and Tweek and I made out through the entirety of it. I couldn’t remember a time that I had felt more alive. I had this rush of insanely incredible feelings jolting throughout me. I couldn’t comprehend how much I adored Tweek, and how it was even possible to adore someone this much. It physically ached to think about how much love I had for the boy that sat before me, and that he felt the same.

“Okay, Craig, I hate to agree with you, but those were lowkey lame as fuck.” Cartman admitted on entering the house with Stan and Kyle following shortly behind. Tweek jumped away from me, but maintained our hand’s contact.  
I threw my friends a glance over my shoulder and smirked, “See? They’re pointless.”

Kyle sauntered into the kitchen with a knowing smirk plastered across his face. “So, what’d you two get up to?”  
Blushing deeply, Tweek stared up at Kyle with an innocent grin, “Just talked and plugged my ears when I heard the sound of human’s destroying the ozone layer.”

Kyle sat in the empty seat beside us. He glanced at our hands, “You two are so cute. I need a girlfriend.”

“Why don't you just join Stan and Kenny's relationship?” Cartman joked, arms crossed over his chest.

The redhead gave him a sarcastic smile, "Why don't I just fuck Heidi instead?"

"I'll fuckin' kill you!"

"Both of you shut up about Heidi!" Stan exclaimed, exasperated by the conversation already. He rested his chin in his hand. “Can we get pizza? I’m pretty sure none of our parents are going to be home in time to steal it from us again.”

“Ugh, I don’t feel like going anywhere.” Kyle moaned, hopping up on the counter. “But I’ll pay if someone else grabs it.”

“And they can take my car.” Cartman offered up his relatively new truck, which he was extremely proud of and loved to show off.

“I’ll do it,” I announced, pushing my weight onto my feet, eager to drive as I had recently obtained my license. I nodded at Tweek as

Cartman placed his keys in my hand, “Wanna come?”

Tweek stood with me, “Yeah, sure. As long as all the fireworks are over…”  
“Do you hear the _bang bang_ , Twitchy?” Cartman pressed, guzzling down a can of soda.

At the same time, Tweek and I lifted our middle fingers towards our annoying friend. I sent Tweek a grin as Kyle groaned, “God, you’re so married.”

Chuckling, I took the money from Kyle’s hand and gingerly hit him in the face with the bills. “Fuck off.”  
“Don't forget cheese for me!” Stan called on our way out the door.

Tweek and I headed to the adjacent household, bumping into each other purposely and grinning like idiots. “Are you gonna drive any chance you get, now?” Tweek inquired as our hands came together.

“Absolutely. Sorry you can’t enjoy illegal joyrides anymore, babe.”

“That was one time!” He cackled as we approached Cartman’s car. While there were still many days when I traveled by foot through our small mountain town as I lacked my own car, driving was by far the most liberating privilege I inherited.

As we sat on opposite sides of the vehicle, Tweek took my hand in his again and laced our fingers together. “So… are we a thing now?”

“Like, dating wise?” I asked. Tweek shrugged, granting me the most adorable grin I had ever seen. I wished that I wasn’t driving so that I could stare at him. I replied, “We can be anything you want, Tweekers.”

He squeezed my hand affectionately, “Well, I wanna know what it’s like to have a good boyfriend. Is that okay with you?”

“Obviously,” I retorted happily. “All I’ve ever wanted is you.”

Tweek shifted in his seat and reeled in close to me. He pressed a lingering kiss to my cheek and whispered in my ear, “I’m all your’s.”

Chills ignited my spine, desiring to turn and have another twenty-minute make-out session with him. I could barely accept this day as reality, yet I had never felt more content. I had Tweek, after years of wanting and wishing and wondering. His hand was encased in mine and he held it tightly—probably too tight, but I didn’t mind. I never planned on letting go.

“I don’t even want pizza.” Tweek expressed with a chuckle.

I smirked, “Want to go to my place and eat ramen noodles, then?”

He simpered endearingly at me, “You know me so well.”

I purchased the pizza for my friends and headed back with Tweek. By the time we had returned, so did Kenny, and he was in dire need of sustenance according to the way he inhaled a slice of pizza as soon as we walked into the door. I announced that Tweek and I were heading home, and Kyle ordered me to text him the details as soon as possible. The rest of the night was spent with Tweek and me delving into our newfound relationship. I held onto him tightly just to remind myself that this wasn’t a math-class daydream. Nothing could have possibly meant more to me than the way Tweek smiled into each kiss I planted against his lips. It seemed almost impossible to love someone as much as I loved him, but I did.  
_

“Hey, dad, can I borrow your car?” I asked, approaching my parents while they watched a true crime show.  
Without looking up, Dad returned, “Where are you going?”  
“I’m going to the park with Tweek.”  
“Aww,” Mom cooed.  
I rolled my eyes as I was again questioned, “Can’t you walk?”  
“Thomas, just let him take it, hon. He’s finally getting out more.” Mom suggested, putting her attention back on the television.  
“Exactly, I’m social now.”  
“Keys are on the hook. Don’t wreck it,”  
Keys in hand, I wished them a good-bye before jogging out to the car. Tweek and I had been dating for about a month then, and needless to say, it was the best summer ever. We had been essentially inseparable since the 4th of July and spent majority of our time making out and telling each other how cute we are. I was headed over to pick him up for a date at the park.  
I shot Tweek a text saying that I was outside, and then waited with the windows down for him to join me in my dad’s SUV. A breeze carried the smell of pine and honeysuckle into the car. I watched the front door open as Tweek stepped out into the nice weather. I adjusted the rear-view mirror to accommodate my height as he climbed into the passenger’s seat.  
“Hey, Craig,” he greeted, granting me a quick peck on the cheek before pulling on his seatbelt. “How’s it going?”  
“I’m good, babe, how are you?”  
“I’m freaking out!”  
I frowned, putting the car in drive and heading off to the park. “What’s going on?”  
“I’ve been looking at the polls again! He’s definitely going to do it, man! More and more people are going to actually vote for him!”  
I sighed, reluctant to begin yet another conversation about the impending presidential election. “Tweek, I promise you he’s not going to win.”  
“That’s what you said about him winning the nomination! Now it’s down to him and Hilary Clinton and his numbers are going up! He’s going to do it!”  
When I stopped at one of the few lights in our town, I peered over at my paranoid boyfriend. I took a moment to admire how he looked in a plain, black long-sleeved shirt and cuffed blue jeans. He had his unruly bangs pulled back with berets, the familiar expression of distress covering his face.  
“I can absolutely guarantee you that the majority of people in this country will not vote for a reality TV host to be their president. There are limits to how stupid our country is.”  
Tweek exclaimed, “No there isn’t! What are we going to do?! That guy that’s going to be his vice hates gay people, man! He advocated for conversion therapy!” Somewhat amused by his continuous paranoia of Donald Trump becoming president, I placed a comforting hand on his thigh. He seemed to relax a little into my touch. “Gah, what if he starts a war?!”  
“Just don’t join the military.” I suggested. He continued to spew about how dire this situation was until we pulled into one of the scarce parking spaces South Park’s only park provided.  
I finally managed to get him to change the subject as we walked hand-in-hand around the park. “Cartman and I finally got those pictures of Mr. Kitty with the bread on his head. I even got a few with a wide-angle lens. It’s pretty hilarious.”  
Tweek chuckled, “You gotta show me later! How did you even do it?”  
I sighed, “I’m not going to lie, babe. We sacrificed Kenny. He’s pretty scratched up.”  
Tweek laughed, shaking his head. I withdrew my hand from his and pulled down the sleeves of my flannel to protect my bare arms from the increasingly chilly breeze. Summer was by far my favorite season as it allowed me to shed the heavy winter clothing I was normally forced to wear if I wanted to be comfortable. The sun also shown brighter for longer, and the air was fresher and the ground was plagued with significantly less snow.  
“Speaking of Kenny, he will not stop asking me how our sex is,” he said, mildly annoyed. “Every single time I see him, without fail, he’s like, ‘Hey, Tweek, did you get the good ‘D’ today?’. Like, why would I tell him even if I had?!”  
“He’s just messing with you. He’s either really sweet or really gross and there’s no in between.” I assured him, an amused grin on my lips.  
“Well, I know what! I just don’t understand what’s so funny about us having sex is!”  
I paused, thinking carefully about my reply. It was something we had been dancing around the topic of for a little bit. Obviously I had fantasized about it countless times, and there was no way he didn’t notice my body’s indication that I was interested when we would make out for twenty minutes at a time, but we had yet to discuss it. I swallowed, shrugged, “I personally don’t find it hilarious, but if it were to happen, I think we owe it to Kenny to tell him since he put so much effort into finding out.”  
Tweek’s cheeks instantly obtained a rosy tinge. My suggestive comment forced regret to churn my stomach. A moment of awkward silence was finally broken by Tweek’s late reply, “If we have to tell Kenny about it, then it’s going to be you!”  
“Fine, but we have to make sure he doesn’t tell Cartman like he does about his and Stan’s bedroom activities.” I chuckled. When another bought of somewhat uncomfortable silence followed us, I summoned enough confidence to ask, “I mean… is that something you’d maybe want to do?”  
At that point, Tweek’s whole face was red and he stowed his gaze away from me. Despite his embarrassed, nervous demeanor, I detected a small smile curving his lips. “Have you ever thought about it?”  
“Well, I am a teenage guy,” I suggested, reaching over to scoop up his hand in mine in attempts to reassure him. “Whenever you’re ready to take our relationship there, so am I. I’d never ask you to do something you’re not ready for, though.”  
My boyfriend’s smile grew as he laced his fingers around mine. He bit his lip and spoke softly, “Thanks, Craig. I love you.”  
“I love you, too, babe.” I grinned at the way he crinkled his nose when I planted a kiss to his cheek. The remainder of the date was fun and adorable as always despite my mind completely distracted with the topic of our conversation.  
_  
My arms snaked around Tweek’s waist, pulling him in closer as we kissed one another hungrily. I let out a soft sigh of pleasure at the feeling of Tweek’s fingers entangling into my hair that was in desperate need of a trim; however, the feeling of it being pulled slightly by my boyfriend made me more than okay with the length. I carefully pushed him up against the wall as the kiss deepened. He’s teeth began to gently tug at my bottom lip, making my eyes roll to the back of my head.  
My heart picked up the pace as he slowly slid his hands down my shoulders to my arms. Eventually he grasped my hands and drew back from my lips. I frowned at the separation, fluttering my eyes open to find a pair of pretty, forest green eyes staring back at me expectantly.  
“Yeah?” I breathed, reaching up to brush a rogue strand of yellow hair from his forehead.  
Tweek glanced away, anxiety evident in the way he chewed his lip. He inhaled deeply before briefly pinning me with a piercing stare. He shook his head, pushing himself off the wall and colliding our lips again. I melted back into the term of endearment, cupping the nape of his neck to steady myself. Tweek, however, urged me to keep backpedaling towards my bed.  
“Dude,” I yelped as Tweek made me fall back against the mattress. He giggled at my surprised reaction and climbed on top of me, straddling my waist. Placing hands on either side of my head to hold himself upright, he leaned down to kiss me passionately again. I instinctively grabbed his hips and pulled him closer.  
My mind was racing as things continued to heat up. Each gesture Tweek initiated was increasingly suggestive, especially when he broke our lip’s contact and traced soft kisses down my neck. I wetted my lips and peered down at him, watching with slightly wide eyes as he traced his hands down to my jeans. “Tweek,” I exhaled in a questioning tone.  
Peering back up at me, I saw Tweek’s face had again gone entirely red. He grinned sweetly at me, “Craig… would it be alright with you if I touched your penis?”  
Head spinning, I failed to muster up the energy to joke back and merely spat out a, “Yes,” before grabbing onto his shirt and pulling him down to meet my lips again. Tweek’s sudden surge of confidence rendered me even more turned on than usual. Every touch, kiss, and moment felt was awkward and indescribable.  
After Tweek and I were both finished, we collapsed against the mattress, gasping for air. After a moment of staring into space and savoring the moment, I turned my head to the side to find Tweek also peering intently at the ceiling. “Well, fuck,” I huffed, putting a smile on Tweek’s perfect face.  
“Yeah, that’s what we just did.” Tweek joked, both of us remaining equally out of breath. Despite the fact that I still preferred to merely talk to and laugh with Tweek, I couldn’t deny how great it felt to take our relationship to the next level. I felt myself become even more vulnerable and attached to my boyfriend, and loved even more deeply than I had previously thought. We spent a few more moments merely leaning into one another, blushing, and smiling. We were so happy.  
_  
“I think I’m gonna puke.” Tweek huffed, rocking back and forth from his heels to his toes in his high-top Converse.  
The blond was rocking a large Led Zeppelin t-shirt and baggy Nike shorts, both mine. A matching headband kept his long bangs from hindering his vision, and his pretty eyes stared up at me in an amusing combination of terror and excitement. Tweek had been looking forward to basketball tryouts for months.  
“Don’t puke—just shoot.” I advised, rubbing the small of his back. “And remember that if you make the team you’ll never have to play chess again.”  
“Gah, I do hate it!” Tweek pouted a lip, “What if the ones that are way taller than me elbow me in the face and I get another bloody nose?”  
I chuckled, “Don’t worry about that, a lot of point guards a on the smaller side. Plus, you’ve been working on this all summer. So, just show them what you can do. Kyle will be there with you, and the rest of us will be on the sidelines.”  
I gestured to the remaining members of our group resting in the benches. Stan had prior obligations to attend most of the sporting events, being the captain of the football team. Kenny and Cartman were merely being supportive and being assholes simultaneously, getting a kick out of making fun of the people who suck. Hopefully Tweek wouldn’t be one of those people.  
A whistle sounded and the shrill voice of our gym teacher shouted from behind us, “Alright, kids, if you’re trying out for the team form a line!”  
Tweek exhaled a shaky breath and granted me one last anxious glance, “Wish me luck.”  
I did so by pulling him into a quick kiss. A sweet grin spread his lips as I told him, “You can do this, Tweek.”  
Tweek nodded, rushing off to join his potential fellow teammates. I strode over to join Stan, Kenny, and Cartman on the bench and let out a breath. “Please God let him do well.”  
“He’s been practicing hardcore with Ky all summer,” Kenny reminded me, clapping a comforting hand on my knee. “And you know how he is when it comes to achieving a goal—ironically Nazi-esque.”  
Cartman snorted as Stan shook his head at his ridiculous boyfriend. I turned my attention to the congregation of about fifteen guys and a couple girls (including Bebe Stevens) that were listening intently to the coach’s mini-speech. Another reason I had a lot of confidence in Tweek’s spot on the team was the fact that the coach was also his history teacher, who happened to really like him.  
First they took a few laps and did some stretches to loosen up. When that was done, they huddled together again. I couldn’t deny the second-hand anxiety I felt as I watched Tweek bounce between his two legs and chew on his fingernails.  
“I can’t believe it’s completely normal for a Jew, scrawny gay kid, and chick to play basketball.” Cartman unfortunately verbalized his thoughts.  
I squinted at him in disbelief as Stan shot back, “You’re just mad because you couldn’t dunk on any one of those players, and you think that’s the most important aspect of basketball.”  
“It absolutely is,” Cartman shrugged. “and I totally could, I just don’t feel like it right now.”  
My attention returned to my boyfriend as they began taking free-throws one by one. I grinned to myself, as that was Tweek’s specialty. I prayed that he wouldn’t psych himself out because despite popular belief, he was pretty good at basketball, and playing made him happy.  
When it was his turn, Stan and Kenny gripped either of my shoulders. I bit down on my bottom lip as I watched his precise movements. He dribbled the ball a couple of times before gazing up at the basket. Cocking his elbows back, bending his knees, he reeled back and pushed himself into a jump, letting the ball flick from his fingers. I held my breath and watched the basketball fly through the air, tapping the rim and tipping into the net.  
“Nice.” I sighed in relief as I watch a proud smile stretch his lips. He retreated to the back of the line, giving Kyle the chance to do the same thing he had.  
“Our boyfriends are so talented, you guys.” Kenny sighed endearingly.  
The tryouts took only a half hour, and although a majority of them were guaranteed a spot on the team, there would still be two people going home disappointed. I gauged the news by Kyle’s and Tweek’s reactions. The slightly taller redhead wrapped a comforting arm around my fidgeting boyfriend.  
After the coach stopped speaking, each kid separated, most of them with wide grin’s plastered to their faces—especially Tweek. He rushed over to me and exclaimed, “I made the team! Only Kevin and Scott didn’t, which kind of sucks, but I made it!”  
“Nice job, babe!” I huffed out a long breath when he collapsed against me in a strong embrace. I wrapped my arms around him and pressed a kiss to his temple. My heart raced with that familiar feeling of joy as I held him tightly. “I told you.”  
“Thanks, Craig.” Tweek sighed, pulling back and granting Kyle a wide smile. “And thanks for bootcamp, Kyle.”  
“Don’t thank him, ordering people around is his favorite past time.” Cartman said while grinning up at his friend.  
The redhead glared at him, “Shut up, Fatass.”  
Stan stood to his feet, reaching over to hold Kenny's hand, “Wanna go to KFC to celebrate? Cartman’s buying.”  
“Like hell he is—“  
“Let’s go!” Kyle interrupted Cartman, granting him a smirk before sauntering towards the exit.  
We all followed his lead, listening to the two of them skirmish. Tweek slid his hand into my grasp and I gave it a loving squeeze. “Good job. I’m proud of you.”  
Tweek squeezed my hand back. “Love you.”  
“Love you, too.” I promised. After sharing a soft kiss, we delved into the conversation with the rest of the group.  
Junior year had already seemed much more promising than the one prior, and it hadn’t even begun. While sophomore year was easily the most stressful, it taught me a lot about the complexities of life and myself as a person, as well as helped me come together with the people that meant the most to me in my life.  
Life is never fair and there’s going to be a lot of bullshit to go through. But, I had Tweek standing right beside me, beaming brightly and looking perfect as ever. I knew even if this school year proved to suck as much balls as the last year, at least I would have him by my side. I was _so_ happy.


End file.
